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. 


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(Qsn^nsismi.  '  &\Q. 


C/^o-t^ 


WOMEN  OF  WORTH. 


As  when  the  night  its  highest  noon  attains, 
And  not  a  cloud  o'ercasts  the  blue  serene, 

The  stars  diffused  through  all  the  ethereal  plain*, 
And  all  arrayed  in  living  light  are  seen.; 

80  in  this  night  of  time  -what  patterns  rise, 

Rich  in  celestial  lustres  to  adorn 
And  bless  our  world,  till  from  those  lower  skies 

Shine  the  full  glories  of  that  promised  morn, 

"When  Jesns  rising,  like  the  orient  sun 
Shall  drown  these  stars  in  his  superior  rays, 

And  all  these  saints,  their  race  nocturnal  run, 
Alone  on  his  unrivalled  beauties  gaze.     • 

But  till  this  day  shall  break,  how  much  we  ow* 

To  those  divine  examples  that  illume 
Oar  tourney  through  this  vale  of  sin  and  •»  »e> 

Direct  our  steps  and  half  dispel  our  gloom. 

Ye  fair,  heaven's  kindest,  noblest  gift  to  man, 
Adorned  with  every  charm  and  every  grace, 

The  flame  your  forms  inspire  let  virtue  fan, 
And  let  the  mind  be  lovelier  than  the  face. 

Daughters  of  Eve,  or  In  your  silver  hairs, 
Or  flourishing  in  youth's  auspicious  bloom, 

The  soul,  the  immortal  soul,  demands  your  cares; 
Oh  live  as  heirs  of  endless  life  to  come! 

Well  weigh  your  various  characters,  fulfil 
All  your  relations  both  to  God  and  man, 

Press  to  be  perfect,  high,  mount  higher  still ; 
f!rown,  crowd  with  blessings  your  contracted  spta. 


JOHN   FLAXMAN   RUINED   FOR  AN   ARTIST. 

"  'So,  Flaxmnn,"  said  the  President  one  day,  as  he  chanced  to  meet  him,  'I  am  told  yon  nre  mar 
ried  ;  if  so,  sir,  1  tell  yon  you  are  ruined  for  an  artist.'  Flaiman  went  home,  sat  down  beside  his  wife,  took 
her  hand,  and  said,  with  a  smile,  •  I  am  ruined  for  an  nrtist.'  '  John, '  raid  she,  •  how  has  this  happened, 
and  who  haa  done  it !'  '  It  happened,'  said  he,  '  in  the  church,  and  Ann  Penman  has  done  it ;  I  met  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  just  now,  and  he  said  marriage  had  ruined  me  in  my  profession."' — PAGE  964. 


i* 

I    ! 


.7  A  M  K.  S      C3- .     G-  K  K  G-  O  K  Y  . 

1863. 


» 


CONTENTS. 


MM 

Mary  Washington,  the  Illustrious  Matron 9 

Martha  Washington,  the  True  Wife 22 

Charlotte  BronUS,  the  Worthy  Daughter 27 

Elizabeth  Fry,  the  Newgate  School-Mistress 58 

Sarah  Martin,  the  Jail  Missionary 76 

Margaret  Mercer,  the  Worker  of  Charity 94 

Sarah  Boardman  Judson,  the  Teacher  in  the  Wilds 106 

Lady  Russell,  the  Noble  Dame 121 

Lucy  Ilutcliinson,  the  Pattern  of  Domestic  Virtue 132 

Isabel  the  Catholic,  the  Friend  of  Columbus 139 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe,  the  Earnest  Christian 176 

Maria  Theresa,  the  Star  of  Austria 185 

Madame  Oberlin,  the  Pastor's  Helpmate 193 

Ann  Letitia  Barbauld,  the  Children's  Favorite 199 

Rebecca  Motte,  the  Devoted  Patriot 226 

Madame  Keeker,  the  Estimable  Governess 231 

Caroline  L.  Horechel,  the  Patient  Astronomer 237 

Hannah  More,  the  Quiet  Reformer 242 

Ann  Flaxman,  the  Sculptor's  Assistant 263 

Mrs.  Wordsworth,  the  Poet'a  Companion 267 

Harriet  Newell,  the  Christian  Heroine 272 

Sarah  Lanman  Smith,  the  Missionary's  Wife 277 

Lady  Warwick,  the  laborer  in  the  Vineyard, 283 

Lady  Mackintosh,  the  Guardian  Angel 300 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FAGI 

John  Flaxman  ruined  for  an  Artist. — Frontispiece. 
Elizabeth  Fry  Reading  to  the  Newgate  Prisoners. — Vig- 
nette Title. 

The  "Worthy  Daughter,  Charlotte  Bronte" 44 

Sarah  Martin  and  her  Jail  Congregation 84 

Sarah  Judson  and  the  Burmese  Freebooters 113 

Columbus  Returns  from  the  "New  "World" 166 

Madeleine  Oberlin  Visiting  the  Sick 198 

Sir  "William  Herschel's  Astronomical  Assistant. .               .  240 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


THE  RELATION  OF  BIOGRAPHY  TO  EVERY-DAY  LIFE. 

•'  It  Is  tbc  divinest  thing  to  be  good."— JOHN  FOATCB. 
"Goodness  Is  beauty  In  Its  best  estate." — MARLOWE. 
"  The  true  mark  of  a  good  heart,  is  Its  capacity  for  loving." — 

MADAME  DE  SETIONE. 

THE  following  Biographical  Sketches  form,  it  is 
bdicvi-cl,  :i  book  which  a  woman  of  any  age  may 
take  up  with  pleasure  and  profit;  while  to  the 
young — it  may  bo  of  unformed  character — the 
work  is  calculated  to  be  more  specially  useful,  in 
r  as  it  serves  to  show  how  those  who  were  of 
"The  Excellent  of  the  Earth"  walked  amongst  us. 

After  a  careful  examination  of  the  numerous 
books  which  treat  of  the  lives  and  works  of  notable 
\\oniiii,  it  may  !><•  sufficient  to  remark  that  if  the 
editor  of  the  present  volume  has  made  even  an 
approach  to  the  standard  kept  in  view,  this  pub- 
lication will  be  found  to  present  elenu'tits  of  ehar- 
and  examples  of  action  in  a  manner  likely  to 
t  wholesome  influence  while  it  possesses  a 
distinctive  t<>m>. 

In  conjunction  with  this  pervading  spirit  it  has 
been  an  object  to  combine  in  one  cheap  volume, 


vi  PREFATORY:  NOTE. 

brief,  graphic,  and  suggestive  sketches,  not  only  of 
those  already  famous  in  the  annals  of  female  worth, 
but  of  those  whose  li ves,  from  having  been  spent  in 
the  midst  of  us,  or  at  least  within  the  memory  of  a 
still-existing  generation,  have  thus,  to  some  extent, 
been  overlooked  in  previous  collections  of  a  some- 
what similar  character.  The  aim  has  therefore  been 
to  record  "deeds  which  should  not  pass  away,  and 
names  that  must  not  wither." 

With  respect  to  the  materials  of  which  the  book 
is  composed  a  few  words  are  necessary.  The  more 
lengthy  sketches  are  original,  enriched  by  a  little 
fresh  information  from  private  sources.  Of  the 
shorter  lives,  the  majority  are  taken  from  the  third 
era  of  Sarah  Josepha  Hale's  "Records  of  Women."* 
The  interesting  account  of  the  labors  of  Sarah  Mar- 
tin is  gathered  from  the  pages  of  the  "  Edinburgh 
Review ;"  and  the  sketch  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe 
is  derived  from  Miss  Kavanagh's  "Women  of 
Christianity." 

Every  life  here  given  has  at  least  its  one  phase 
of  excellence ;  but  not  a  few  of  them  are  worthy  of 
contemplation  under  many  aspects,  and  of  imitation 
in  several  ways.  In  all  we  see  blended  the  fruits 
of  that  labor,  patience,  truth,  trust,  and  love  which 
are  the  crown  and  glory  of  woman. 

There  are  not  here  many  names  of  the  great  and 


•  Woman's  Record ;  or  Sketches  of  all  Distinguished  Women  from 
the  Creation  to  A.  D.  1854.  By  Sarah  Josepha  Hale.  New  York :  Har- . 
per  Brothers. 


PREFATORY   NOTE.  Vll 

titled.  All  honor  to  those  who,  with  all  the  weak- 
Mae  of  our  common  humanity,  have  borne  meekly 
and  bravely  the  trials  of  prosperity  and  high  sta- 
tion: the  full  cup  needs  a  steady  hand.  It  has 
rather  been  designed  to  draw  lessons  from  more 
commonplace  people,  and  to  show  something  of  the 
poetry  and  charm  of  every-day  life — from  a  notion 
that  thereby  the  book  will  be  more  impressive  to 
the  majority  of  readers.  Perhaps  it  may  serve  to 
soothe,  encourage,  and  sustain,  as  well  as  to  warn 
and  guide.  For,  as  good  old  Jeremy  Taylor  has 
well  put  it,  good  books,  and  the  examples  of  good 
lives,  are  amongst  the  thousands  of  excellent  arts 
which  it  has  pleased  God  to  use  to  win  us. 

It  is  no  doubt  often  a  difficult  matter  for  an  en- 
thusiastic young  woman  to  settle  into  the  harness 
of  every-day  life.  It  seems  so  easy  and  so  fine  to 
act  gracefully  or  grandly  upon  grand  occasions, 
amongst  people  who  are  to  one's  taste.  It  is  often 
very  hard  for  a  time  (we  use  the  words  of  a  piquant 
and  thoughtful  writer)  to  learn  that  "fellow-mor- 
tals, every  one,  must  be  accepted  as  they  are :  you 
can  neither  straighten  their  noses,  nor  brighten 
their  wit,  nor  rectify  their  dispositions ;  and  it  is 
these  people — amongst  whom  your  life  is  passed — 
that  it  is  needful  you  should  tolerate,  pity,  and 
love ;  it  is  these  more  or  less  ugly,  stupid,  incon- 
sistent people  whose  movements  of  goodness  you 
should  be  able  to  admire — for  whom  you  should 
all  possible  hopes,  all  possible  patience. 
In  this  world  there  are  so  many  of  these 


Vlll  PREFATORY   NOTE. 

common,  coarse  people,  who  have  no  picturesque 
sentimental  wretchedness!  It  is  so  needful  we 
should  remember  their  existence,  else  we  may 
happen  to  leave  them  quite  out  of  our  religion  and 
philanthropy,  and  frame  lofty  ideas  which  only  fit 

a  world  of  extremes There  are  few 

prophets  in  the  world;  few  sublimely  beautiful 
women ;  few  heroes.  I  can't  afford  to  give  all  my 
love  and  reverence  to  such  rarities :  I  want  a  great 
deal  of  those  feelings  for  my  every-day  fellows,  es- 
pecially for  the  few  in  the  foreground  of  the  great 
multitude,  whose  faces  I  know,  whose  hands  I 
touch,  for  whom  I  have  to  make  way  with  kindly 
courtesy." 

And  so  it  will  be  a  good  thing  if  this  gathering 
of  exemplary  lives  will  teach  some  to  study  to  be 
kind,  and  others  to  be  quiet,  and  all  to  be  cheerfuL 

THE  EDITOE. 


OF  WORTH. 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  MATRON, 

MARY  WASHINGTON, 

TIIK  mother  of  George  Washington,  the  hero  of 
the  American  revolutionary  Avar,  and  the  first 
president  of  the  United  States,  claims  the  noblest 
ili-tiiu  lion  a  woman  should  covet  or  can  gain,  that 
of  training  her  gifted  son  in  the  way  he  should  go, 
and  inspiring  him  by  her  example  to  make  the  way 
of  goodne<-  hi>  ]>ath  to  glory.* 

Krs.  Mary  Washington  was  descended  from  the 

very   n-spcctalile   family  of  Ball,  who   settled  as 

Ku;_'Ii-h  c<>l<im>ts  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac. 

;    in    tlmse   domestic   and    independent  habits 

which  graced  the  Virginia  matrons  in  the  old  days 

of  Virginia,  this  lady,  by  the  death  of  her  husband, 

"!'•  involved  in  the  cares  of  a  youn^  family,  at 

a  ju-r'--     vhcn  those  cares  seem  more  especially  to 


•  TbU  b.      ..phy  WM  writUn  bjr  George  W.  P.  CuitU,  grandson  of 
Mr*.  MwlUa  W«»l»lnk't«n. 


10  WOMEK   OF   WORTH, 

claim  the  aid  and  control  of  the  stronger  sex.  It 
was  left  for  this  eminent  woman,  by  a  method  the 
most  rare,  by  an  education  and  discipline  the  most 
peculiar  and  imposing,  to  form  in  the  youth-time 
of  her  son  those  great  and  essential  qualities  which 
gave  lustre  to  the  glories  of  his  after-life.  If  the 
school  savored  the  more  of  the  Spartan  than  the 
Persian  character,  it  was  a  fitter  school  to  form  a 
hero,  destined  to  be  the  ornament  of  the  age  in 
which  he  flourished,  and  a  standard  of  excellence 
for  ages  yet  to  come. 

It  Avas  remarked  by  the  ancients,  that  the  mother 
always  gave  the  tone  to  the  character  of  the  child ; 
and  we  may  be  permitted  to  say  that,  since  the 
days  of  old  renown,  a  mother  has  not  lived  better 
fitted  to  give  the  tone  and  character  of  real  great- 
ness to  her  child,  than  she  whose  remarkable  life 
and  actions  this  reminiscence  will  endeavor  to  illus- 
trate. 

At  the  tune  of  his  father's  death,  George  Wash- 
ington was  only  ten  years  of  age.  He  has  been 
heard  to  say  that  he  knew  little  of  his  father, 
except  the  remembrance  of  his  person,  and  of  his 
parental  fondness.  To  his  mother's  forming  care 
he  himself  ascribed  the  origin  of  his  fortunes  and 
his  fame. 

The  home  of  Mrs.  Washington,  of  which  she  was 
always  mistress,  was  a  pattern  of  order.  There 
the  levity  and  indulgence  common  to  youth  were 
tempered  by  a  deference  and  well-regulated  re- 
straint, which,  while  it  neither  suppressed  nor  con- 


MART   WASHINGTON.  11 

dcmned  any  rational  enjoyment  usual  in  the  spring- 
time of  lite,  jire-iTilied  those  enjoyments  within 
tin-  bounds  of  moderation  and  propriety.  Thus 
tlu-  chief  was  taught  the  duty  of  obedience,  which 
prepared  him  to  command.  Still  the  mother  held 
in  reserve  an  authority  which  never  departed  from 
her,  even  when  her  son  had  become  the  most  illus- 
trious of  men.  It  seemed  to  say,  "I  am  your 
mother,  the  being  who  gave  you  life,  the  guide 
who  directed  your  steps  when  they  needed  a  guar- 
dian ;  my  maternal  affection  drew  forth  your  love ; 
my  authority  constrained  your  spirit ;  whatever 
may  be  your  success  or  your  renown,  next  to  your 
God,  your  reverence  is  due  to  me."  Nor  did  the 
ehief  <lis-i-iit  from  these  truths;  but  to  the  last 
niiiineiits  of  his  venerable  parent,  yielded  to  her 
will  the  most  dutiful  and  implicit  obedience,  and 
felt  for  her  person  and  character  the  highest  re- 
spect, and  the  most  enthusiastic  attachment. 

Such  were  the  domestic  influences  under  which 
the  mind  of  Washington  was  formed;  and  that  he 
not  only  profited  by,  but  fully  appreciated  their 
!Ieneo  and  the  character  of  his  mother,  his 
Ir-havior  toward  her  at  all  times  testified.  Upon 
his  appointment  to  the  command-in-chief  of  the 
American  armies,  previously  to  his  joining  the 
forces  at  Cambridge,  he  removed  his  mother  from 
her  country  residence  to  the  village  of  Fredericks- 
burg,  a  situation  remote  from  danger,  and  contig- 
uous to  her  friends  and  relatives. 

It  was  there  the  matron  remained  during  nearly 


12  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

the  whole  of  the  trying  period  of  the  revolution. 
Directly  in  the  way  of  the  news,  as  it  passed  from 
north  to  south,  one  courier  would  bring  intelligence 
of  success  to  our  arms ;  another,  "  swiftly  coursing 
at  his  heels,"  the  saddening  reverse  of  disaster 
and  defeat.  While  thus  ebbed  and  flowed  the  for- 
tunes of  our  cause,  the  mother,  trusting  to  the 
wisdom  and  protection  of  divine  providence,  pre- 
served the  even  tenor  of  her  life ;  affording  an 
example  to  those  matrons  whose  sons  were  alike 
engaged  in  the  arduous  contest ;  and  showing  that 
unavailing  anxieties,  however  belonging  to  nature, 
were  unworthy  of  mothers  whose  sons  were  com- 
bating for  the  inestimable  rights  of  man,  and  the 
freedom  and  happiness  of  the  world. 

When  the  comforting  and  glorious  intelligence 
arrived  of  the  passage  of  the  Delaware  (December, 
1776),  an  event  which  restored  our  hopes  from 
the  very  brink  of  despair,  a  number  of  her  friends 
waited  upon  the  mother  with  congratulations.  She 
received  them  with  calmness,  observed  that  it  was 
most  pleasurable  news,  and  that  George  appeared 
to  have  deserved  well  of  his  country  for  such  sig- 
nal services ;  and  continued,  in  reply  to  the  gratu- 
lating  patriots  (most  of  whom  held  letters  in  their 
hands,  from  which  they  read  extracts):  "But,  my 
good  sirs,  here  is  too  much  flattery — still  George 
will  not  forget  the  lessons  I  early  taught  him — he 
will  not  forget  himself \  though  he  is  the  subject 
of  so  much  praise." 

During  the  war,  and  indeed  during  her  useful 


MAUV    WJUSHSB&KOS.  13 

life,  up  to  tin-  advanced  age  of  eighty-two,  until 
within  tlin-.-  years  of  her  death  (when  an  afflictive 
di-ea-e  prevented  exertion),  the  mother  set  a  most 
valuable  example  in  the  management  of  her  domes- 
nis,  carrying  her  own  keys,  bulling  in 
her  hou.Nclmld  aiVairs,  providing  for  her  family,  :ui<l 
living  and  moving  in  all  the  pride  of  independence. 
She  was  not  actuated  by  that  ambition  for  show 
which  pervades  lesser  minds ;  and  the  peculiar 
plainness  and  dignity  of  her  manners  became  in 
nowi>e  altered,  when  the  sun  of  glory  arose  upon 
her  house.  There  are  some  of  the  aged  inhabit- 
ants of  Fredcricksburg  who  well  remember  the 
matron,  as  seated  in  an  old-fashioned  open  chaise, 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting,  almost  daily, 
her  little  farm  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town 
When  there,  she  would  ride  about  her  fields, 
giving  her  orders,  and  seeing  that  they  were 
obeyed. 

Her  great  indu>lry,  with  the  well-regulated  econ- 
omy of  all  her  concerns,  enabled  the  matron  to  dis- 
PCIIM-  considerable  charities  to  the  poor,  although 
her  own  circumstances  were  always  far  from  rich. 
All  manner  of  domestic  economies,  so  useful  in 
tho-e  times  of  privation  and  trouble,  met  her  zeal- 
ous attention ;  while  every  thing  about  her  house- 
hold bore  marks  of  her  care  and  management,  and 
many  things  the  impress  of  her  o\vn  hands. 
In  a  very  humble  dwelling,  and  sallcring  under  an 
excruciating  disease  (cancer  of  the  brea-t),  thus 
lived  this  mother  of  the  first  of  men,  preserving, 


14:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

unchanged,  her  peculiar  nobleness  and  independ- 
ence of  character. 

She  was  always  pious,  but  in  her  latter  days  her 
devotions  were  performed  in  private.  She  was  in 
the  habit  of  repairing  every  day  to  a  secluded  spot, 
formed  by  rocks  and  trees,  near  her  dwelling, 
where,  abstracted  from  the  world  and  worldly 
things,  she  communed  with  her  Creator,  in  humil- 
iation and  prayer. 

After  an  absence  of  nearly  seven  years,  it  was  at 
length,  on  the  return  of  the  combined  armies  from 
Yorktown,  permitted  to  the  mother  again  to  see 
and  embrace  her  illustrious  son.  So  soon  as  he 
had  dismounted,  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous  and 
brilliant  suite,  he  sent  to  apprise  her  of  his  arrival 
and  to  know  when  it  would  be  her  pleasure  to 
receive  him.  And  now  mark  the  force  of  early 
education  and  habits,  and  the  superiority  of  the 
Spartan  over  the  Persian  school,  in  this  interview 
of  the  great  Washington  with  his  admirable  parent 
and  instructor.  No  pageantry  of  war  proclaimed 
his  coming,  no  trumpets  sounded,  no  banners 
waved.  Alone  and  on  foot,  the  marshal  of  France, 
the  general-in-chief  of  the  combined  armies  of 
France  and  America,  the  deliverer  of  his  country, 
the  hero  of  the  age,  repaired  to  pay  his  humble 
duty  to  her  whom  he  venerated  as  the  author  of 
his  being,  the  founder  of  his  fortune  and  his  fame. 
For  full  well  he  knew  that  the  matron  would  not 
be  moved  by  all  the  pride  that  glory  ever  gave,  nor 
by  all  the  "  pomp  and  circumstance"  of  power. 


MARY   WASHINGTON.  15 

The  lady  was  alone,  her  aged  hands  employed  in 
the  works  of  domestic  industry,  when  the  good 
news  was  announced ;  and  it  was  further  told  that 
the  victor  chief  was  in  waiting  at  the  threshold. 
She  welcomed  him  with  a  warm  embrace,  and  by 
the  well-remembered  and  endearing  name  of  his 
childhood;  iiKjniring  as  to  his  health,  she  remarked 
the  lines  which  mighty  cares  and  many  trials  had 
made  on  his  manly  countenance,  spoke  much  of  old 
times  and  old  friends,  but  of  his  glory — not  one 
wordf 

Meantime,  in  the  village  of  Frederieksburg,  all 
was  joy  and  revelry ;  the  town  was  crowded  with 
the  officers  of  the  French  and  American  armies, 
and  with  gentlemen  from  all  the  country  around, 
who  hastened  to  welcome  the  conquerors  of  Corn- 
wallis.  The  citizens  made  arrangements  for  a 
splendid  ball,  to  which  the  mother  of  Washington 
was  specially  invited.  She  observed  that,  although 
her  dancing  days  were  pretty  wdl  over,  she  should 
feel  happy  in  contributing  to  the  general  festivity, 
and  consented  to  attend. 

The  foreign  officers  were  anxious  to  sec  the 
mother  of  their  chief.  They  had  heard  indistinct 
rumors  respecting  her  remarkable  life  and  charac- 
ter; but,  forming  their  judgments  from  European 
examples,  they  were  prepared  *to  expect  in  the 
mother  that  glare  and  show  which  would,  have 
been  attached  to  the  parents  of  the  great  in  the 
old  world.  How  were  they  surprised  when  the 
matron,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  son,  entered  the 


16  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

room!  She  was  arrayed  in  the  very  plain,  yet 
becoming  garb  worn  by  the  Virginia  lady  of  the 
olden  time.  Her  address,  always  dignified  and  im- 
posing, was  courteous,  though  reserved.  She  re- 
ceived the  complimentary  attentions',  which  were 
profusely  paid  her,  without  evincing  the  slightest 
elevation ;  and,  at  an  early  hour,  .wishing  the  com- 
pany much  enjoyment  of  their  pleasures,  observing 
that  it  was  time  for  old  people  to  be  at  home,  re- 
tired. 

The  foreign  officers  were  amazed  to  behold  one 
whom  so  many  causes  contributed  to  elevate,  pre- 
serving the  even  tenor  of  her  life,  while  such  a 
blaze  of  glory  shone  upon  her  name  and  offspring. 
The  European  world  furnished  no  examples  of  such 
magnanimity.  Names  of  ancient  lore  were  heard 
to  escape  from  their  lips ;  and  they  observed  that, 
"  if  such  were  the  matrons  of  America,  it  was  not 
wonderful  the  sons  were  illustrious." 

It  was  on  this  festive  occasion  that  General 
Washington  danced  a  minuet  with  Mrs.  Willis.  It 
closed  his  dancing  days.  The  minuet  was  much 
in  vogue  at  that  period,  and  was  peculiarly  calcu- 
lated for  the  display  of  the  splendid  figure  of  the 
chief,  and  his  natural  grace  and  elegance  of  air 
and  manner.  The  gallant  Frenchmen  who  were 
present,  of  which'fine  people  it  may  be  said  that 
dancipg  forms  one  of  the  elements  of  their  exist- 
ence, so  much  admired  the  American  performance, 
as  to  admit  that  a  Parisian  education  could  not 
have  improved  it.  As  the  evening  advanced,  the 


MARY     WASIIIN,.:  17 

commander-in-chicf,  yielding  to  the  gayety  of  the 
scene,  went  down  some  dozen  couple  in  the  contra- 
dance,  with  great  spirit  ami  satisfaction. 

The  Marquis  do  Lafayette  repaired  to  Fred- 
erieksburg,  previous  to  his  departure  for  Europe, 
in  the  fall  of  1784,  to  pay  his  parting  respects  to 
the  mother,  and  to  ask  her  blessing. 

Conducted  by  one  of  her  grandsons,  he  approach- 
ed tin-  hoii-.1.  when  the  young  gentleman  observed, 
'•There,  sir,  is  my  grandmother."  Lafayette  be- 
held, working  in  the  garden,  ela«l  in  domestie-7iiade 
clothes,  and  her  gray  head  covered  in  a  plain  straw 
hat,  the  mother  of  "his  hero!"  The  lady  saluted 
him  kindly,  observing:  "Ah,  marquis !  you  see  an 
old  woman — but  come,  I  can  make  you  welcome 
to  my  poor  dwelling,  without  the  parade  of  chang- 
ing my  dress." 

The  marquis  spoke  of  the  happy  effects  of  the 
••it ion,  and  the  goodly  prospect  which  opened 
upon  independent  America  ;   stated   his   <peedy  de- 
parture for  his  native  land;  paid  the  tribute  of  his 
la-art,   his   love   and   admiration   of  her  illustrious 
son;  and  concluded  by  asking  her  blessing.     She 
d  him  ;  and  to  the  encomiums  which  he  had 
.avi^hcd   upon  his  hero  and  paternal  chief,  the  ma- 
replied   in   these  words:  "I  am   m>t    >upri-ed 
at  what  George  has  done,  for  he  was  always  a  very 
good  bo\ 

In  her  person,  Mrs.  Washington  was  of  the  mid- 
i/.e,  ami   finely  formed ;  her  features  pleasing, 
yet  strongly  marked.    It  is  not  the  happiness  of 
2 


IB  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

the  writer  to  remember  her,  having  only  seen  her 
with  infant  eyes.  The  sister  of  the  chief  he  per- 
fectly well  remembers.  She  was  a  most  majestic 
woman,  and  so  strikingly  like  the  brother,  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  frolic  to  throw  a  cloak  around  her, 
and  place  a  military  hat  upon  her  head ;  and,  such 
was  the  perfect  resemblance,  that,  had  she  appear- 
ed on  her  brother's  steed,  battalions  would  have 
presented  arms,  and  senates  risen  to  do  homage  to 
the  chief. 

In  her  latter  days,  the  mother  often  spoke  of 
her  own  good  boy  /  of  the  merits  of  his  early  life ; 
of  his  love  and  dutifulness  to  herself;  but  of  the 
deliverer  of  his  country,  the  chief  magistrate  of  the 
great  republic,  she  never  spoke.  Call  you  this  in- 
sensibility ?  or  want  of  ambition?  Oh,  no  I  her 
ambition  had  been  gratified  to  overflowing.  She 
had  taught  him  to  be  good  ;  that  he  became  great 
when  the  opportunity  presented,  was  a  consequence, 
not  a  cause. 

Mrs.  Washington  died  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
seven,  soon  after  the  decease  of  her  illustrious  son. 
She  was  buried  at  Fredericksburg,  and  for  many 
years  her  grave  remained  without  a  memorial- 
stone.  But  the  heart  of  the  nation  acknowledged 
her  worth,  and  the  noble  spirit  of  her  native  Vir- 
ginia was  at  length  aroused  to  the  sacred  duty  of 
perpetuating  its  respect  for  the  merits  of  its  most 
worthy  daughter.  On  the  seventh  of  May,  1833, 
at  Fredericksburg,  the  corner-stone  of  her  monu- 
ment was  laid  by  Andrew  Jackson,  then  the  Presi- 


MAKY    WASHINGTON.  19 

dent  of  the  United  States.  The  public  officers  of 
the  general  government,  and  an  immense  con- 
course of  people  from  every  section  of  the  country, 
crowd i-d  to  u  itness  the  imposing  ceremonies.  Mr. 
IJanvtt.  one  of  the  monument  committee  of  Vir- 
ginio,  delivered  the  eulogy  on  Mrs.  Washington, 
:ind  then  addressed  the  President  of  the  United 

-;.  In  his  reply,  General  Jackson  paid  a  beau- 
tiful tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased,  which, 
for  its  masterly  exposition  of  the  effect  of  mater- 
nal example,  and  of  the  importance  of  female  in- 
fluence, deserves  to  be  preserved.  We  give  a  few 
sentences: 

"  In  tracing  the  recollections  which  can  be 
gathered  of  her  principles  and  conduct,  it  is  im- 
possible to  avoid  the  conviction,  that  these  were 

iy  interwoven  with  the  destiny  of  her  son. 
The  great  points  of  his  character  are  before  the 
world.  He  who  runs  may  read  them  in  his  whole 

r,  as  a  citizen,  a  soldier,  a  magistrate.  He 
possessed  an  unerring  judgment,  if  that  term  can 
be  applied  to  human  nature ;  great  probity  of  pur- 
pose, high  moral  principles,  perfect  self-possession, 
untiring  application,  an  inquiring  mind,  seeking  in- 
formation from  every  quarter,  and  arriving  at  its 
conclusion";  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  subject; 
and  he  added  to  these  an  inflexibility  of  resolution, 
which  nothing  could  change  but  a  conviction  of 
error.  Look  back  at  the  life  and  conduct  of  his 
mother,  and  at  her  domestic  government,  and  they 
will  be  found  admirably  adapted  to  form  and  de- 


20  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

velop  the  elements  of  such  a  character.  The  power 
of  greatness  was  there ;  but  had  it  not  been  guided 
and  directed  by  maternal  solicitude  and  judgment, 
its  possessor,  instead  of  presenting  to  the  world 
examples  of  virtue,  patriotism,  and  wisdom,  which 
will  be  precious  in  all  succeeding  ages,  might  have 
added  to  the  number  of  those  master-spirits,  whose 
fame  rests  upon  the  faculties  they  have  abused,  and 
the  injuries  they  have  committed. 

"  How  important  to  the  females  of  our  country, 
are  these  reminiscences  of  the  early  life  of  Wash- 
ington, and  of  the  maternal  care  of  her  upon  whom 
its  future  course  depended!  Principles  less  firm 
and  just,  an  affection  less  regulated  by  discretion, 
might  have  changed  the  character  of  the  son,  and 
with  it  the  destinies  of  the  nation.  "We  have  rea- 
son to  be  proud  of  the  -virtue  and  intelligence  of 
our  women.  As  mothers  and  sisters,  as  wives  and 
daughters,  their  duties  are  performed  with  exem- 
plary fidelity.  They,  no  doubt,  realize  the  great 
importance  of  the  maternal  character,  and  the  pow- 
erful influence  it  must  exert  upon  the  American 
youth.  Happy  is  it  for  them  and  our  country,  that 
they  have  before  them  this  illustrious-  example  of 
maternal  devotion,  and  this  bright  reward  of  filial 
success !  The  mother  of  a  family  who  lives  to  wit 
ness  the  virtues  of  her  children,  and  their  advance- 
ment in  life,  and  who  is  known  and  honored  because 
they  are  known  and  honored,  should  have  no  other 
wish,  on  this  side  the  grave,  to  gratify.  The  seeds 
of  virtue  and  vice  are  early  sown,  and  we  may 


MAUV    WASHINGTON.  21 

often  anticipate  the  harvest  that  will  be  gathered. 
Changes,  no  doubt,  occur,  but  let  no  one  place  his 
hope  upon  these.  Impressions  made  in  infancy,  if 
not  indelible,  are  effaced  with  difficulty,  and  renewed 
with  facility ;  and  upon  the  mother,  therefore,  must 
frequently,  if  not  generally,  depend  the  fate  of  the 

BOD. 

"Fellow-citizens:  at  your  request,  and  in  your 
name,  I  now  deposit  this  plate  in  the  spot  destined 
for  it;  and  when  the  American  pilgrim  shall,  in 
after  ages,  come  up  to  this  high  and  holy  place,  and 
lay  his  hand  upon  this  sacred  column,  may  he  recall 
the  virtues  of  her  who  sleeps  beneath,  and  depart 
with  his  affections  purified,  and  his  piety  strength- 
ened, while  he  invokes  blessings  upon  the  mother 
of  Washington." 

This  monument  bears  the  simple  but  touching 
inscription,  MARY,  THE  MOTIIEB  OF  WASHINGTON. 


22  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 


THE  TEUE  WIFE, 

MARTHA    WASHINGTON, 

WIFE  of  General  George  Washington,  was  born 
in  the  county  of  New  Kent,  Virginia,  in  May,  1732. 
Her  maiden  name  was  Martha  Dandridge ;  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  she  married  Colonel  Daniel  Parke 
Custis,  of  the  White  House,  county  of  New  Kent, 
by  whom  she  had  four  children ;  a  girl,  who  died  in 
infancy;  a  son,  named  Daniel,  whose  early  death 
is  supposed  to  have  hastened  his  father's ;  Martha, 
who  arrived  at  womanhood,  and  died  in  1770 ;  and 
John,  who  perished  in  the  service  of  his  country, 
at  the  siege  of  Yorktown,  aged  twenty-seven. 

Mrs.  Custis  was  left  a  young  and  very  wealthy 
widow,  and  managed  the  extensive  landed  and 
pecuniary  concerns  of  the  estate  with  surprising 
ability.  In  1759,  she  was  married  to  George  Wash- 
ington, then  a  colonel  in  the  colonial  service,  and 
soon  after,  they  removed  permanently  to  Mount 
Vernon,  on  the  Potomac.  Upon  the  election  of 
her  husband  to  the  command-in-chief  of  the  armies 
of  his  country,  Mrs.,  or  Lady  Washington,  as  she 
was  generally  called,  accompanied  the  general  to 


MARTHA   WASHINGTON.  23 

the  lines  before  Boston,  and  witnessed  its  siege 
and  evacuation ;  and  was  always  constant  in  her 
attendance  on  her  husband,  when  it  was  possible. 
After  General  Washington's  election  to  the  presi- 
dency of  the  United  States,  in  1787,  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton performed  the  duties  belonging  to  the  wife  of 
a  man  in  that  high  station,  with  great  dignity  and 
:  and  on  the  retirement  of  Washington,  she 
still  continued  her  unbounded  hospitality.    The  de- 
cease cf  her  venerated  husband,  who  died  Decem- 
ber   14th,   1709,  was  the  shock  from  which  she 
never  recovered,  though  she  bore  the  heavy  sor- 
row with  the  most  exemplary  resignation.     She 
\v:i-  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  when  he  cx- 
pired,  and  when  she  found  he  was  gone,  she  said, 
in  a  calm  voice:  "'Tis  well;  all   is   now  over;  I 
shall  soon  follow  him ;  I  have  no  more  trials  to 
pass  through."     Her  children  were  all  deceased — 
her  earthly  treasures   were  withdrawn ;  but  she 
held  firm  her  trust  in  the  divine  mercy  which  had 
ordered  her  lot.     For  more  than  half  a  century, 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  passing  an  hour  every 
morning  alone  in  her  chamber,  engaged  in  reading 
the  Bible  and  in  prayer.     She  survived  her  hus- 
band a  little  over  two  years,  dying  at  Mount  Ver- 
non,  aged  seventy. 

In  person  Mrs.  Washington  was  well-formed, 
though  somewhat  below  the  middle  size.  A  por- 
trait taken  previous  to  her  marriage,  shows  that 
she  must  have  been  very  handsome  in  her  youth ; 
and  she  retained  a  comeliness  of  countenance,  as 


24r  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

well  as  a  dignified  grace  of  manner,  during  life.  In 
her  home  she  was  the  presiding  genius  that  kept  ac- 
tion and  order  in  perfect  harmony ;  a  wife,  in  whom 
the  heart  of  her  husband  could  safely  trust.  The 
example  of  this  illustrious  couple  ought  to  have  a 
salutary  influence  on  every  American  family ;  the 
marriage  union,  as  it  subsisted  between  George 
and  Martha  Washington,  is  shown  to  be  the  hap- 
piest, as  well  as  holiest,  relation  in  which  human 
beings  can  be  united  to  each  other.  The  delicacy 
of  Mrs.  Washington's  nature,  which  led  her,  just 
before  her  decease,  to  destroy  the  letters  that  had 
passed  between  her  husband  and  herself,  proves 
the  depth  and  purity  of  her  love  and  reverence  for 
him.  She  could  not  permit  that  the  confidence 
they  had  shared  together  should  become  public; 
it  would  be  desecrating  their  chaste  loves,  and,  per- 
haps, some  word  or  expression  might  be  misinter- 
preted to  his  disadvantage.  One  only  letter  from 
Washington  to  his  wife  was  found  among  his  pa- 
pers ;  the  extracts  we  give  from  this  letter  indicate 
clearly  the  character  of  their  correspondence. 

"PHILADELPHIA,  June  18th,  It 7 5. 
"  MY  DEAREST, — I  am  now  set  down  to  write 
you  on  a  subject  which  fills  me  with  inexpressible 
concern;  and  this  concern  is  greatly  aggravated 
and  increased,  when  I  reflect  upon  the  uneasiness  I 
know  it  will  give  you.  It  has  been  determined  in 
Congress,  that  the  whole  army  raised  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  American  cause  shall  be  put  under  my 


MARTHA   WASHINGTON.  25 

.  and  that  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  proceed  im- 
mediately to  Boston,  and  take  upon  me  the  com- 
mand of  it. 

"  You  may  believe  me,  dear  Patsy,  when  I  assure 
you,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  that,  so  far  from 
s.-rkiiig  this  appointment,  I  have  used  every  en- 
mr  in  my  power  to  avoid  it,  not  only  from 
my  unwillingness  to  part  with  you  and  the  family, 
but  from  the  consciousness  of  it  being  a  trust  too 
great  f«r  my  capacity,  ami  that  I  should  enjoy  more 
real  happiness  in  one  month  with  you  at  home, 
than  I  have  the  most  distant  prospect  of  finding 
abroad,  if  my  stay  were  to  be  seven  times  seven 
years.  But  as  it  has  been  a  kind  of  destiny  that 
ha-  thrown  upon  me  this  service,  I  shall  hope  that 
my  undertaking  it  is  designed  to  answer  some 

good  purpose. 

***** 

"  I  shall  rely,  therefore,  confidently  on  that  Prov- 
idence, which  has  heretofore  preserved  and  been 
bountiful  to  me,  not  doubting  but  that  I  shall  re- 
turn safe  to  you  in  the  fall.  I  shall  feel  no  pain 
from  the  toil  or  the  danger  of  the  campaign;  my 
unhappiness  will  flow  from  the  uneasiness  I  know 
you  will  feel  from  being  left  alone.  I  therefore 
;hat  you  will  summon  your  whole  fortitude, 
an- 1  pass  your  time  as  agreeably  as  you  can.  No- 
thing will  give  me  so  much  sincere  satisfaction  as 
t«»  hear  this,  and  to  hear  it  from  your  own  pen." 
***** 

He  then  goes  on  to  say,  that  as  life  is  always 


26  WOMEN   OF    WORTH. 

uncertain,  he  had  had  his  will  drawn  up,  and  in- 
closed the  draft  to  her ;  by  this  will  he  gave  her 
the  use  and  control  of  all  his  estates  and  property 
during  her  life-time,  which  will  was  observed  at 
his  decease.  Such  was  the  love  the  greatest  man 
.the  world  ever  saw  cherished  toward  his  wife; 
and  she  worthy  of  his  love.  What  higher  celebrity 
*  could  a  woman  desire? 


CHARLOTTE   BBONTE.  27 


THE  WORTHY  DAUGHTER, 

CHARLOTTE    BRONTE. 

I.v  the  central  region  of  Yorkshire,  which,  from  its 
elevation,  forms  the  rivershed  of  that  portion  of 
t  Britiiin,  where  wold  and  moor,  beck  and 
force,  deep  scooped-out  valleys,  and  tier  after  tier 
of  high-rounded  hills  running  up  into  mountains, 
I  >r i- vail,  was  born,  and  lived,  and  died,  Charlotte 
Bronte.  The  region  is  rough  and  unsightly — no 
trees,  no  velvety  soft  verdure,  no  golden  crops,  no 
nestling  hedges,  consequently  few  birds  to  wake 
the  echoes,  save  the  lark  and  the  more  common  of 
the  freemen  of  the  air — a  naked,  cold,  and  barren 
trart,  where,  however,  the  treasures  below  the 
surface  largely  compensate  for  the  absence  of  pic- 
tmvMjiie  luauty  above,  and  where,  "as  the  soil  is, 
so  the  heart  of  man,"  rough  in  the  husk,  rich  in 
the  core.  Iron  and  coal,  and  lime  and  freestone, 
abound  in  these  bold  and  hilly  masses,  and  in  the 
«li-|»ressed  flats  between  them;  but  without,  the 
soil  is  cold  and  peaty,  its  chief  vegetation  being 
coarse  pasturage,  sundry  heaths  and  mosses,  and 
other  components  of  the  moorland  Flora, 


28  WOMEN   OF  WORTH. 

In  one  of  the  least  attractive  spots  of  this  dis- 
trict, hard  by  the  rising  manufacturing  town  of 
Keighley,  stands  the  village  of  Haworth,  rather 
high  upon  the  moors,  which,  nevertheless,  seem  to 
stretch  illimitably  above  and  beyond  it,  till  they 
border  the  sky.  The  village  street  runs  straight 
up  the  hill,  and  can  be  seen  for  miles'  distance. 
The  cottages  are  all  of  that  plain  two-story,  rough 
aspect,  which  is  common  in  this  part  of  Yorkshire 
and  the  corresponding  section  of  Lancashire,  built 
of  the  grit  which  abounds  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  which  furnishes  the  stone  dykes  that  demark 
the  fields;  those  stony  fences  conveying  the  im- 
pression that,  like  the  material  of  which  they  are 
built,  they  are  more  useful  than  ornamental.  With 
the  same  material  the  steeply-ascending  street  is 
pitched,  the  edge  of  the  stones  projecting  sharply 
to  give  footing  to  the  tripping  horses,  the  whole 
seeming  the  very  coarsest  contrivance  of  an  imper- 
fect civilization,  and  in  singular  keeping  with  all 
around.  The  church  stands  at  the  top  of  the 
street,  with  nothing  of  architectural  decoration  to 
recommend  it,  and  behind  it,  still  nearer  the  bleak 
moor,  at  the  further  end  of  the  churchyard,  is  the 
plain,  primitive,  two-storied  parsonage,  where  the 
author  of  "Jane  Eyre"  spent  her  early  days,  and 
where,  at  the  end  of  thirty-nine  years,  she  render- 
ed up  her  breath  to  the  Great  Giver;  a  house 
gloomy  in  its  position,  gloomy  in  exterior  aspect, 
and  in  all  its  conditions  gloomy — the  only  cheerful 
thing  which  the  manse  and  the  village  can  boast 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE.  29 

being  the  fires  which,  summer  and  winter,  the 
alum, lance  of  coal  and  tin-  habits  of  the  people  bid 
sparkle  in  almost  »-\ery  apartment.  The  parsonage 
looks  out  on  a  churchyard,  paved  throughout  with 
tombstones,  the  singularly-ugly  fancy  predominat- 
ing here,  as  throughout  the  whole  factory  region, 
of  hiding  the  verdure  with  flat  stones,  while  head- 
stones would  admit  of  the  green  sod  growing  over 
graves,  and  are  every  way  more  appropriate  and 
pretty.  But  this  uncouth  and  neglected  look  is 
in  harmony  with  the  appearance  of  every  thing 
around:  not  poverty-struck,  far  from  it,  but  a 
carelessness  about  arrangements  which  are  not  de- 
manded by  the  necessities  of  existence. 

And  this  is  very  characteristic  of  the  manly  and 
primitive  population  that  abound  in  such  districts, 
who  in  manner  seem  somewhat  repulsive,  from 
their  frankness  and  independence  of  bearing,  and 
in  speech  scarcely  intelligible,  from  their  broad 
provincialisms  and  abounding  Saxon  phraseology. 
A  visitor  must  expect  to  be  thee-and-thmt'd  by 
them  as  sturdily  as  by  any  follower  of  George 
Fox,  while  thorpe  and  fared,  and  fond  ww,  and  a 
thousand  peculiarities  more,  sufficiently  proclaim 
the  native  atlinities  of  their  tongue.  But  they  are 
faithful  and  affectionate,  thoughtful  and  religious; 
old  Tabby,  the  servant  of  the  Brontes,  who  died 
umler  their  roof  after  a  thirty  years'  residence, 
IK-MIL:  :ni  instance  of  the  one,  and  the  abounding 
of  church  and  chapel,  well  supported  and  well 
attended,  together  with  a  deference  for  revealed 


30  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

religion,  being  proof  of  the  other.  The  contamina- 
tion which  springs  from  crowded  factories,  high 
wages,  and  the  impulsive  life  of  competition,  is 
kept  very  steadily  in  check,  in  the  part  of  York- 
shire of  which  we  speak,  by  the  earnest  and  suc- 
cessful efforts  at  evangelization  made  by  Christians 
of  all  persuasions,  and  no  district  of  the  country  is 
full  of  more  lively  promise  for  the  future,  on  the 
score  of  morality  and  religion. 

They  have  a  shrewd  and  racy  humor,  too,  these 
blunt  and  downright  fellows,  with  an  amazing 
fund  of  plain  common  sense.  As  a  sample  of  their 
Yorkshire  Doric,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  spice  of 
their  caustic  jokes,  we  quote  a  paragraph  from 
their  classic  annual,  the  "Pogmoor  Olmenack," 
which  will  give  a  better  idea  of  their  style  of 
thought  and  speech  than  an  express  dissertation. 
They  call  this  screed  of  satire  the  "Dumestick 
Tutor." 

Long  Division. — T'  cums  in  a  baker's  cake. 

Short  Division. — T'  space  atween  a  miser's 
purse  an  hiz  heart. 

Cumpaand  Addishan. — An  oud  laidy  at  tacks 
snuff,  an  hez  hur  cloaze  scented  it  bargan. 

Propoarshun. — A  womman  lettin  hur  waist 
grow  summut  like  natur  intended  it,  an  not  squeaze 
it  wal  its  na  thicker  then  t'  neck  ov  a  champaine 
bottle. 

Exchainge. — Two  wimmin  differin,  and  tellin 
wun  anuther  all  they  naw. 

Discaant. — A  milk  seller  tackin  t'  cream  off,  an 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  31 

then  warmin'  t'  oud  milk  up  and  sellin  hiz  cus- 
tomers it  for  new. 

Tn  voices. — A  womman  at  tawks  more  indoor  then 
aght. 

Profit  an  Loss. — A  man  at  swaps  a  good  horse 
for  a  bad  an,  an  gies  summat  ta  booit. 

Promiscuous  Examples. — A  man  tackin  hiz 
bairns  to  a  plaice  a  warship  nobbat  when  t'  fit  tacks 
him. 

Evolushans. — A  man  goin  raand  abaght  ta  get 
into  hiz  nabor's  affairs. 

Rnle-a-three, — A  lodgin-hause  bed. 

Single  Posishan. — An  oud  meaid — poor  thing ! 

Book-keejtin. — Borrain  wun  ov  a  friend,  an 
niwer  tackin  him  it  back  agean. 

Weight  an  Measure — 

Ov  Trubbles. — A  regular  weight. 

Ov  Sorrow. — A  full  cup. 

Time— 

Fast. — A  slander  fresh  slipt  off  an  a  womman's 
lie. 

Slaw — A  snail  wauk  wi'  good  deed  on  it  back. 

The  same  dialect  prevails  in  the  language  of  the 
old  woman  whom  Miss  Bronte  met  on  the  moor, 
and  who  accosted  her  in  a  way  which  further  illus- 
trates the  natural  frankness  and  independence  of 
the  natives  of  the  West  Riding.  "How!  Miss 
Bront6 !  Hey  yah  seen  owt  o*  my  cofe  (calf)  ?" 
M  --  Bront<5  told  her  she  could  not  say,  for  she  did 
not  know  it,  when  the  old  woman  proceeded  to  de- 
scribe it  *  "  Wall !  yah  knaw  its  gettin  up  like  nah 


32  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

between  a  cah  (cow)  an  a  cofe,  what  we  call  a  stirk, 
yah  know,  Miss  Bronte :  will  yah  turn  this  way  if 
yah  happen  to  see't,  as  yah're  going  back,  Miss 
Bronte ;  nah  do,  Miss  Bronte  !" 

Amid  such  a  people  and  such  scenery  was  Char- 
lotte Bronte  ordained  to  spend  the  greater  part  of 
her  mortal  life,  her  father,  the  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte, 
A.B.,  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  having  ob- 
tained the  perpetual  curacy  of  Haworth  in  the  year 
1820.  Previous  to  this,  while  curate  of  another 
place  in  Yorkshire,  he  married  his  wife,  a  Cornish 
lady,  who  was  possessed  of  an  annuity  of  £50  a 
year,  and  on  the  slender  means  of  both  proceeded 
to  set  up  house  in  1812.  After  the  birth  of  his 
six  children,  he  received  the  small  benefice  of 
Haworth,  and  thither  he  transported  his  house- 
hold gods  in  the  year  before  named — a  delicate 
wife,  a  swarm  of  little  ones  to  be  provided  for,  and 
scanty  resources;  an  unusual  plain  dietary  and 
almost  total  seclusion  from  society  being  the  result. 
Just  one  year  after  their  arrival  in  the  place,  Mrs. 
Bronte  died,  leaving  her  six  motherless  children 
the  inheritance  of  a  consumptive  constitution  and 
a  morbid  tendency,  which  was  probably  height- 
ened by  the  eccentric  notions  of  their  father  on  the 
itubject  of  early  education.  His  wish  was  to  make 
.them  hardy,  he  himself  having  been  reared  amid 
d&e  stern  penury  of  an  Irish  peasant's  home.  Other 
eccentricities  of  his,  which  dictated  an  almost  total 
seclusion  of  himself  from  the  orphans,  such  as  hav- 
ing his  meals  alone,  a  custom  observed  by  him 


CHARLOTTE  BRONxfe.  33 

throughout  life,  were  not  favorable  to  the  cheerful- 
ness of  spirits,  nor  consequently  to  the  good  health 
of  the  little  ones. 

About  a  year  after  their  mother's  death,  a  prim 
maiden  aunt,  their  mother's  sister,  came  to  reside 
in  the  i»:u  ><>n;ige,  and  took  charge  of  the  helpless 
family.  She  was  a  rigid  domestic  disciplinarian, 
understanding  how  the  work  of  a  house  should  be 
done,  and  having  it  performed  by  her  nieces  and 
the  servant,  like  so  much  clockwork.  Every  menial 
office  in  the  establishment  was  exacted  of  the  child- 
ren, not  more  as  matter  of  necessity  than  of  duty, 
and  Charlotte  continued  to  discharge  them  all  until 
the  year  before  her  death,  with  the  force  of  habit 
and  the  penchant  of  liking.  Grates  were  scoured, 
furniture  scrubbed,  beds  tossed,  floors  washed  and 
swept,  bread  baked,  and  all  sorts  of  plain  cooking 
done  by  these  little,  quiet,  heartbroken-looking 
children,  who  did  every  one  of  the  same  things 
daily  alter  they  became  celebrated  women.  To 
afford  them,  ln>\vever,  advantages  of  education  su- 
perior to  those  which  home  supplied,  the  two  elder 
Msters  of  Charlotte  were  sent,  in  the  year  1824,  to 
a  school  for  the  daughters  of  the  clergy,  which  had 
been  opened  shortly  before  at  no  great  distance 
from  I  la  worth.  This  is  the  school,  the  graphic 
description  of  which  is  one  of  the  main  features  of 
k-  .lane  Kyrr."  In  the  same  year,  at  a  later  period, 
Charlotte,  the  third  child,  and  Emily,  her  still 
younger  si.Mer,  were  sent  to  the  same  school.  The 
failing  health  of  the  whole  party  led  to  their  re- 
8 


34:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

moval  in  the  autumn  of  next  year,  during  which 
(1825)  Charlotte  lost  her  two  eldest  sisters  by 
consumption,  and  became  by  this  dispensation  the 
eldest  of  the  survivors. 

The  education  of  the  family  was  now  conducted 
in  the  most  homely  way  in  their  aunt's  bedroom, 
papa  occasionally  assisting  with  lessons  in  his  study. 
Nevertheless,  except  that  such  volumes  as  were 
in  the  house  were  at  their  disposal,  these  remark- 
able children  were  to  a  great  degree  self-taught. 
Society  they  had  none  beyond  the  walls  of  their 
own  home ;  but  their  father  was  a  man  of  books, 
and  this,  and  their  seclusion,  probably  furnished 
the  strong  impulse  toward  a  creative  literature 
which  the  surviving  members  of  the  family  so  early 
exhibited.  When  Charlotte  had  reached  only  her 
thirteenth  year,  she  had,  assisted  in  some  small 
degree  by  younger  members  of  the  family,  filled 
volume  after  volume  of  MS.  with  tales,  romances, 
plays,  and  poems,  indicative  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary bent  toward  literature,  and  ease  and  variety 
in  composition.  Before  she  was  sixteen,  the  fol- 
lowing verses  fell  from  her  pen : 


"THE  WOUNDED  STAG. 

"  Passing  amid  the  deepest  shade 

Of  the  wood's  sombre  heart, 
Last  night  I  saw  a  wounded  deer 
Laid  lonely  and  apart. 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE.  35 

"Such  light  as  pierced  the  crowded  boughs 

(Light  scatter'd,  scant,  and  dim), 
Pass'd  through  the  fern  that  formed  his  couch, 
And  centred  full  on  him. 

"  Fain  trembled  in  his  weary  limbs, 

Pain  fill'd  his  patient  eye, 
Pain-crush'd  amid  the  shadowy  fern 
His  branchy  crown  did  lie. 

44  Where  were  his  comrades  ?    Where  his  mat*  t 

All  from  his  death-bed  gone ! 
And  he,  thus  struck  and  desolate, 
Suffer' d  and  bled  alone. 

"  Did  he  feel  what  a  man  might  feel, 

Friend-left  and  sore  distrest? 
Did  pain's  keen  dart  and  griefs  sharp  sting 
Strive  in  his  mangled  breast? 

"  Did  longing  for  affection  lost 

Barb  every  deadly  dart  ? 
Love  unrepaid,  and  faith  betray'd, 
Did  these  torment  his  heart? 


"  No  I  leave  to  man  his  proper  doom  I 

These  are  the  pangs  that  rise 
Around  the  bed  of  state  and  gloom 
Where  Adam's  offspring  dies !" 


These  surely  are  not  common  verses,  either  in 
thought  or  style  of  expression,  for  any  young 
person  of  her  age,  and  are  the  more  remarkable 
in  her,  the  half  of  whose  time  was  spent  in  tho 
kitchen,  in  companionship  with  as  uncultivated  a 


36  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

specimen  of  Yorkshire  old-womanhood  as  York- 
shire could  supply,  the  before-named  Tabby. 

In  the  year  1831,  Charlotte  was  sent  to  a 
private  school,  under  more  favorable  auspices  than 
her  former  venture.  Her  appearance  was  that  of 
a  very  small  girl,  quaintly  dressed,  with  large  and 
plain  features,  and  with  such  strange  nearness  of 
vision,  that  her  ordinary  expression  was  that  of  a 
person  assiduously  seeking  something.  She  seemed 
a  regular  scarecrow  to  most  of  the  young  people 
around  her,  avoiding  their  society,  never  joining 
in  their  plays,  and  being  not  seldom  the  butt  of 
their  ridicule,  as  the  old-fashioned  daughter  of  a 
poor  tory  country  clergyman,  while  they  were  the 
blooming  daughters  of  wealthy  dissenters.  Buf, 
while  she  secured  the  esteem  and  regard  of  the 
proprietor  of  the  school,  she  also  made  one  or  two 
fast  friendships,  which  continued  through  life.  In 
one  year  she  left  this  school,  and  then  devoted 
herself  at  home  to  the  instruction  and  charge  of 
her  younger  sisters,  whom  she  tenderly  loved,  and 
carefully  watched  over.  Their  life  was  spent  in 
the  house  or  on  the  moor,  never  mustering  cour- 
age enough  to  face  the  stare  of  the  village  street, 
except  at  some  call  of  duty.  Charlotte  taught 
regularly  in  the  Sunday  school. 

Besides  the  extreme  seclusion  of  their  home,  and 
the  sensitive  pride  fostered  by  their  father,  both  in 
a  measure  the  result  of  narrow  circumstances,  but 
both  aggravated  by  that  eccentricity  which  in  his 
children  took  the  form  of  genius,  the  girls  had 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  37 

anxieties  and  sorrows  arising  from  their  brother,  a 
youth  of  great  talent  and  lively  conversational 
powers,  next  in  age  to  Charlotte.  His  tastes 
inclined  him  to  adopt  the  profession  of  an  artist ; 
and  in  order  to  furnish  the  means  sufficient  for  his 
residence  in  London  while  studying  in  the  Royal 
Academy,  whither  it  was  projected  he  should  go, 
the  family  circle  must  be  broken  up,  and  Charlotte 
become  a  governess.  She  returned  to  her  last 
school  in  that  capacity  on  the  smallest  possible 
remuneration,  and  had  one  of  her  sisters  with  her 
as  pupil  in  the  establishment.  Here  her  whole 
time  was  devoted  to  teaching,  to  anxieties  about 
her  sisters'  health,  who  were  both  delicate,  to  her 
own  personal  troubles,  which  were  not  few,  and 
were  aggravated  by  the  sensitiveness  of  her  nature, 
and  to  painful  solicitudes  regarding  home  and  her 
brother.  Branwell  had  begun  to  exhibit  a  ten- 
dency toward  vicious  society  and  dissolute  habits, 
which  was,  of  all  things,  most  repulsive  to  his 
pure-minded  and  self-denying  sisters.  The  year  in 
which  Charlotte,  under  the  influence  of  the  most 
lofty  motives,  first  left  home  to  be  a  governess, 
her  brother  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
yet  even  then  his  face  was  as  familiar  at  the  Black 
Bull  Inn,  at  the  head  of  the  village,  as  at  home. 
The  good  humor  of  the  lad,  his  high  spirits  and 
rare  conversational  talent,  made  him  an  acceptable 
visitor  within  the  bar  of  the  Taurine  hostel;  and 
the  habit  of  conviviality,  which  began  in  fun, 
ended,  as  it  has  often  done  before,  in  sad  earnest. 


38  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

From  the  hour  in  which  he  took  to  segars  and  the 
taproom  he  was  a  lost  man,  for  he  lacked  that 
seven-fold  shield  of  virtue  which  his  sisters  pos- 
sessed, in  their  indomitable  feeling  of  pride  or  self- 
respect,  which  would  descend  from  its  sphere  for 
the  sake  of  no  indulgence  whatsoever,  and,  above 
all,  that  high  sense  of  duty  which  made  Charlotte's 
exertions  through  life  a  daily  martyrdom,  with  her 
weak  frame  and  her  tremblingly  susceptible  soul, 
that  rendered  to  her  things  which  others  cared  not 
for,  as  if  she  "  had  been  touched  with  hot  iron." 
Pride  and  principle  he  lacked,  and  the  conse- 
quences were  to  himself  ruin,  and  to  his  family  the 
unspeakable  misery  of  many  years. 

To  help  this  ungrateful  boy  and  reduce  the  family 
expenditure,  after  a  short  interval  spent  at  home, 
poor  Charlotte  has  to  turn  out  again  in  search  of  a 
situation,  home  being  peculiarly  home  to  her,  be- 
cause it  gave  her  leisure  for  the  cultivation  of  lite- 
rature, because,  too,  her  person  was  so  little  at- 
tractive, her  diffidence  so  painful,  and  her  acquisi- 
tions, on  the  scale  of  accomplishments,  so  deficient, 
that  she  could  only  occupy  a  subordinate  position 
among  teachers.  The  immortal  author  of  "Jane 
Eyre"  never  got  above  being  a  kind  of  nursery 
governess,  with  £16  a  year,  and  endless  tasks  of 
sewing  to  do.  Her  experiences  of  governess- work 
were  not  of  an  agreeable  kind.  When  twenty-two 
years  of  age  she  writes  thus  of  her  employer,  and 
in  no  complaining  mood,  but  simply  describing  the 
facts  of  the  case :  "  She  cares  nothing  about  me, 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE.  39 

except  to  contrive  how  the  greatest  possible  quan- 
tity of  labor  may  be  got  out  of  me;  and  to  that 
end  she  overwhelms  me  with  oceans  of  needle  work ; 
yards  of  cambric  to  hem,  muslin  nightcaps  to  make, 

and,  above  :ill  things,  dolls  to  dress I 

aee  more  clearly  than  I  have  ever  done  before,  that 
a  private  governess  has  no  existence,  is  not  con- 
ed as  a  living  rational  being,  except  as  con- 
nected with  the  wearisome  duties  she  has  to  fulfil." 
In  conversation  at  a  later  period  she  said :  "  that 
none  but  those  who  had  been  in  the  position  of  a 
governess  could  ever  realize  the  dark  side  of  *  re- 
>]•('( -table 'human  nature."  If  this  be  so,  as  this 
retiring  woman,  of  no  inordinate  expectations,  and 
the  most  modest  pretensions,  avers,  God  help  our 
governesses,  and  speed  their  emancipation  from  the 
thraldom  of  the  taskmasters  of  their  own  sex.  Men 
have  some  conscience  how  they  tyrannize  over  their 
servants,  and  in  any  case  dread  the  vengeance  of 
their  over-goaded  victim ;  but  female  tyrants  are 
alike  destitute  of  shame  and  fear,  in  their  treatment 
of  their  female  subordinates.  Some  of  Charlotte 
Bronte's  employers  appear  to  have  been  of  this 
character.  Poor  girl !  well  might  she  write  to  her 
from  that  situation :  "  I  could  like  to  be  at 
home — I  could  like  to  work  in  a  mill — I  could  like 
to  feel  some  mental  liberty."  The  roughest  coun- 
try girl  in  a  Yorkshire  mill  was  not  worked  half  so 
hanl,  and  dared  not  bo  treated  ill,  while  she  re- 
1  larger  wages  than  this  refined,  shrinking, 
upright,  and  most  gifted  child  of  a  reputable  clergy- 


40  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

man  in  the  neighborhood.  However,  even  govern- 
ess-ships end,  and  there  is  an  exodus  from  the  house 
of  bondage  of  the  most  unbending  female  Pharaoh. 
Miss  Bronte  left  this  uncongenial  family  in  183*7, 
but  not  before  the  constant  strain  upon  her  strength 
and  spirits  had  seriously  affected  her  health.  When 
this  delicacy  became  apparent  in  palpitations  and 
shortness  of  breath,  it  was  treated  as  an  affectation, 
and  the  summary  prescription  of  her  considerate 
mistress,  who  was  reckoned  agreeable  in  society, 
was — a  good  scolding.  Well  might  the  emanci- 
pated girl  enjoying  the  freedom  of  her  home,  write 
to  a  friend,  describing  their  doing  without  a  ser- 
vant :  "  Emily  and  I  are  sufficiently  busy,  as  you 
may  suppose ;  I  manage  the  ironing,  and  keep  the 
rooms  clean ;  Emily  does  the  baking,  and  attends 
to  the  kitchen.  .  .  .  Human  feelings  are  queer 
things ;  I  am  much  happier  blackleading  the  stoves, 
making  the  beds,  and  sweeping  the  floors  at  home, 
than  I  should  be  living  like  a  fine  lady  anywhere 

else I  intend  to  force  myself  to  take 

another  situation  when  I  can  get  one,  though  I 
hate  and  abhor  the  very  thoughts  of  governess- 
ship.  But  I  must  do  it ;  and  therefore  I  heartily 
wish  I  could  hear  of  a  family  where  they  need  such 
a  commodity."  There  spoke  the  brave,  heroic  soul 
which  sustained  this  delicate,  shy>  home-loving  wo- 
man through  many  a  scene  of  painful  endurance 
from  which  stouter  natures  have  shrunk. 

But  there  was  an  alternation  to  governessing 
abroad,  and  that  was  teaching  school  at  home. 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  41 

But  this  required  capital,  and  capital  they  had 
none.  So  Charlotte  reverts  of  necessity,  to  seek- 
ing a  situation  again:  "Verily,  it  is  a  delightful 
thing  to  live  here  at  home,  at  full  liberty  to  do 
ju>t  what  one  pleases.  But  I  recollect  some 
aorubby  oM  t'alile  about  grasshoppers  and  ants,  by 
a  scrubby  old  knave  yclept  -<Esop :  the  grasshop- 
pers sang  all  the  summer,  and  starved  all  the  win- 
ter." Thus  no  distaste,  no  suffering,  ever  made 
her  shrink  from  any  course  which  she  believed  it 
her  duty  to  engage  in.  Hence,  we  find  her  again 
in  a  place  where  at  least  she  was  treated  with  the 
(ivility  of  a  Christian,  although  even  here  "the 
tale  of  the  bricks,"  in  the  matter  of  sewing,  was 
also  exacted.  The  task  was  tenfold  severe  to 
Charlotte,  as  the  infirmity  of  her  vision  made  a  re- 
dundancy of  such  occupation  particularly  trying. 
No  wonder  she  writes  under  the  pressure  of  many 
disagreements:  "What  dismays  and  haunts  me 
sometimes,  is  a  conviction  that  I  have  no  natural 
knack  for  my  vocation.  If  teaching  only  were  re- 
qui-ite,  it  would  be  smooth  and  easy;  but  it  is  the 
living  in  other  people's  houses — the  estrangement 
from  one's  real  character — the  adoption  of  a  cold, 
rigid,  apathetic  exterior,  that  is  painful." 

Once  more  at  home — this  is  now  the  close  of 
18 U.  What  art  thou  projecting  now,  with  thy 
genial  and  loving  sisters,  thou  stout  and  unyield- 
ing, and  yet  intensely  feminine  heart?  The  pro- 
ject of  a  school  for  the  three  girls  is  recurred  to 
again  and  again,  somewhat  more  hopefully  now ; 


42  WOJtEN    OF   WORTH. 

for  that  maiden  aunt,  who  has  been  the  presiding 
deity  amongst  their  Penates  so  long,  has  certain 
savings  that  may  be  reckoned  on  to  help.  But 
would  not  something  more  in  the  shape  of  accom- 
plishment on  the  part  of  the  teachers,  be  an  acqui- 
sition, and  a  great  aid  to  success  ?  Doubtless,  and 
on  the  really  good  and  kind,  but  somewhat  rigid 
aunt's  money,  a  sojourn  in  Brussels  was  secured 
for  a  few  months  to  the  two  elder  girls,  in  order 
to  qualify  themselves  in  French  for  the  task  of 
keeping  school.  In  February,  1842,  Charlotte  and 
Emily  Bronte  entered  that  domicile  in  Brussels 
made  famous  in  "Villette,"  and,  therefore,  con- 
cerning which  we  need  say  no  more.  We  did  not 
positively  know  this  to  be  true  before ;  but  we 
know  Brussels,  and  could  have  sworn  that  a  pen- 
sionnat  in  French  style  could  not  have  been  de- 
scribed as  in  that  remarkable  novel,  except  from 
personal  experience.  Our  dictum  may  require 
some  little  abatement,  inasmuch  as  romance  may 
have  invested  reality  in  colors  gayer  than  truth, 
nevertheless,  it  is  scarcely  going  beyond  the  due 
license  of  expression  to  affirm  that  that  novel  is 
historically  true. 

Here,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Charlotte 
Bronte  was  in  a  position  that  she  liked,  where  her 
only  business  was  to  improve  herself,  and  where 
she  employed  the  means  of  improvement.  Her 
mind  rapidly  developed  under  the  system  of  acqui- 
sition pursued  by  an  intelligent  teacher.  As  learner 
first,  and  afterward  as  teacher,  Charlotte  spent 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE.  43 

two  years  at  Brussels,  and  left  that  city  in  1 844, 
an  accomplished  French  scholar,  to  begin  the  bat- 
tle of  life  eanu-tly  :it  home. 

All  that  was  no\v  wanting  to  these  good  girls 
was  pupils ;  but  how  to  get  them  was  the  rub. 
They  fixed  their  terms  low,  and  sought  far  and 
wide  for  the  means  to  live,  offering  really  superior 
advantages ;  but  where  ignorant  pretenders  acquire 
fortunes,  these  meritorious  persons  might  have 
starved.  Month  after  month  rolled  away,  till  1845 
had  passed  into  eternity;  and  while  they 
hoped  for  good  tidings  with  every  post,  after  the 
hour  of  delivery,  the  upshot  was  a  daily  disappoint- 
ment— not  one  pupil  ever  arrived.  And  it  was 
almost  a  relief,  so  came  they  in  their  sorrow  to 
think;  for  their  brother,  who  should  have  been 
their  stay,  and  would  have  been  their  pride,  became, 
from  his  folly  and  wickedness,  their  shame  and  their 
curse.  Driven  with  ignominy  from  a  situation 
which  he  disgraced,  he  sought  refuge  at  home, 
where,  till  his  death,  his  days  and  nights  were 
interchanged  between  the  fiery  passions  of  a  hell- 
cat ami  the  stupor  of  a  sot.  His  language,  his 
habit-,  his  very  appearance,  were  contamination, 
and  yet  the  aged  parent  and  the  suffering  sisters 
afforded  him  an  asylum,  paid  his  drunken  debts 
over  and  over  again,  to  keep  him  out  of  jail,  bcre 
as  patiently  as  they  could  what  was  all  but  intoler- 
able and  at  la>t  laid  the  churchyard  mould  over 
hi-  shame,  when  he  died  in  1848,  at  the  early  ago 
of  thirty  misspent  years.  We  shall  not  recur  to 


44:  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

this-  subject  again ;  for  far  beyond  poverty,  or  de- 
pendence, or  natural  disappointments,  was  this 
guilty  relative  a  misery,  a  daily  eyesore,  a  gnaw- 
ing heartache,  to  this  struggling  and  high-souled 
family.  For  three  weary  years,  the  trial  and  the 
degradation  growing  worse  and  worse,  did  this 
great  wrong  continue.  During  all  that  time  it  only 
became  more  aggravated.  At  the  close  of  1845, 
Miss  Bronte"  writes  to  a  friend :  "  No  sufferings 
are  so  awful  as  those  brought  on  by  dissipation. 

Alas  !  I  see  the  truth  of  this  daily  proved 

It  seems  grievous,  indeed,  that  those  who  have  not 
sinned  should  suffer  so  largely."  Again:  "Bran- 
well  declares  that  he  neither  can  nor  will  do  any- 
thing for  himself;  good  situations  have  been  offered 
him,  for  which,  by  a  fortnight's  work,  he  might 
have  qualified  himself;  but  he  will  do  nothing  ex- 
cept drink,  and  make  us  all  wretched." 

In  addition  to  this  sorrow,  her  aged  father  had 
been  becoming  gradually  blind  from  the  access  of 
cataract,  and  to  read  and  write,  and  care  for  him, 
especially  to  comfort  and  cheer  him,  under  this  sore 
privation,  became  her  leading  concern.  Her  own 
health,  too,  ever  delicate,  was  a  source  of  constant 
suffering  to  her,  and  hei  sisters  were  no  less  in- 
valids. Their  old  servant,  Tabby,  the  unpolished 
but  faithful  domestic,  was  paralytic  and  almost  help- 
less; for  the  girls  would  never  consent  that  she 
should  be  dismissed,  and  nursed  by  others  than 
themselves.  The  old  creature,  to  the  last,  persisted 
in  doing  all  those  offices  of  kindness  for  the  young 


mi    WORTHY    IIAI  i.:i:i  i:— «  ii  u::«'i  i 

"  H.r  tcW  hi  k»r  h*d  torn  b~-.-m.njc  (n.1  mfy  b  ikl  (Von  I!M-  »-.•-«  ..f  ritunvt.  mi-l  I"  r»»l, 
wr  to.  «nj  «•»  fcr  Wm,  MfMkl'y  lo  «  *f.r.  w>J  cj  «  t..n.  i..«l.  r  iM.  •  f»  pr:v»iu«,  bnuu. 
U»l«w  r -owra  "-P... .41. 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  45 

Indies  in  which  she  fancied  she  excelled,  one  special 
task  in  which  she  prided  herself,  being  her  skill  in 
peeling  potatoes  for  table.  With  a  delicate  sense 
of  kindness,  which  Charlotte  ever  displayed  after 
Tabby's  eyes  failed  her,  and  she  did  most  imper- 
fectly what  she  fancied  she  had  accomplished  in 
her  best  manner,  her  young  mistress  used  to  steal 
away  the  dish  from  beneath  her  purblind  vision, 
complete  the  process,  and  replace  them  on  the 
dresser,  as  though  no  amendment  had  been  made 
of  the  old  attendant's  botch-work.  Had  Tabby 
been  the  grandmother  of  the  family,  she  could  not 
have  received  more  touching  attentions  from  these 
admirable  women ;  and  when  she  died  from  their 
m'uNt  at  eighty  years  of  age,  and  was  buried  by 
their  care,  they  mourned  as  a  loss  what  their  affec- 
tionate kindness  had  made  a  voluntary  burden  of 
nursing  and  maintaining  for  years.  The  regard 
maintained  for  the  worn-out  domestic,  after  infir- 
mity had  robbed  her  of  her  capacity  of  usefulness, 
speaks  volumes  for  the  merits  of  both  parties,  and, 
as  much  as  thfir  unusual  endowments,  endears  the 
names  of  Charlotte,  Emily,  and  Anne  Bronte  to 
posterity.  \Ve  write  this  sentence  with  no  meas- 
ured feelings  of  admiration  and  respect. 

But  even  in  this  valley  of  tribulation  all  is  not  u*< 
mingled  woe,  and  the  desert  itself  is  coated  hero, 
and  there  with  its  oasis  of  verdure-.  This  melan- 
choly year,  1845,  witnessed  the-  first  venture  in 
literature  of  the  three  girls  under  their  now  well- 
known  pseudonyms  of  Curror  (Charlotte),  Ellis 


46  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

(Emily),  and  Acton  (Anne)  Bell ;  names  so  chosen 
as  to  leave  the  sex  of  the  parties  denominated  in 
doubt.  The  volume  of  poems  which  they  launched, 
while  meeting  with  a  sufficiently  friendly  recep- 
tion, gained  little  notoriety,  and  entailed  consider- 
able loss  on  the  writers. 

Coi'respondence  about  this  small  venture,  and 
devotion  to  prose  composition  occupied  the  year 
1846,  during  which  our  heroine  completed  the 
"Professor,"  a  prose  tale,  and  "Jane  Eyre,"  and 
her  sisters  "  Wuthering  Heights,"  and  "  Agnes 
Grey."  The  "Professor"  went  the  round  of  the 
publishers  in  London,  and  was  universally  rejected ; 
but  "  Jane  Eyre,"  after  frequent  rejections  (and  the 
same  fate  befell  her  sisters'  tales),  was  accepted,  as 
well  as  theirs.  How  enthusiastic  was  its  reception, 
and  how  fully  public  opinion  indorsed  the  judg- 
ment of  the  publishers,  it  were  an  old  tale  to  tell. 
Genius  struggled  against  difficulties,  and  in  this  case 
at  last  met  with  its  reward.  While  composing 
this  extraordinary  fiction,  of  which  the  largest  por- 
tion is  fact,  Miss  Bronte  had  to  nurse  her  father, 
now  seventy-one  years  of  age,  through  an  operation 
for  cataract,  and  the  long  season  of  helplessness 
which  preceded  and  followed  it.  But  for  the  strong 
sense  of  filial  duty  which  bound  her  to  her  father's 
side,  amid  these  and  other  trials,  again  and  again 
would  Charlotte  have  sought  another  home,  under 
more  congenial  auspices,  her  qualifications  for  tui- 
tion now  entitling  her  to  more  adequate  remunera- 
tion and  more  respectful  treatment.  Her  induce- 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  47 

ments  to  go  wore  strong,  for  her  proficiency  in 
French  had  hitherto  been  turned  to  no  account, 
ami  to  let  this  and  other  qualifications  lie  idle  pain- 
ed her;  but  she  silenced  every  selfish  consideration 
by  the  mandate  of  duty  :  "  Whenever  I  consult  my 
conscience,  it  affirms  that  I  am  doing  right  in  stay- 
ing at  home,  and  bitter  arc  its  upbraiding*  when  I 
yield  to  an  eager  desire  for  release.  I  could  hardly 
expect  success  if  I  were  to  err  against  such  warn- 
ings." Her  success  was  reserved  for  1847,  in  the 
October  of  which  year  she  received  complete  copies 
of  "  Jane  Eyre "  from  her  publishers,  and  startled 
and  delighted  the  world  by  a  style  of  composition 
so  novel,  so  fresh,  so  natural,  so  simple,  and  yet  so 
redolent  of  undoubted  genius,  that  it  forms  an  era 
in  the  history  of  fictitious  literature. 

There  is,  it  must  be  owned,  something  like  ca- 
price in  the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  reading  pub- 
lic, and  of  those  who  cater  for  them,  the  publishers. 
In  the  joint  volume  of  the  poetry  of  the  three  sisters, 
Emily's  verses  were  pronounced  superior  to  Char- 
lotte's; and  again,  when  they  volunteered  their 
three  tiles  together,  hers  was  the  only  one  returned 
in  MS.  But  when  she  published  her  "Jane  Eyre/' 
her  popularity  was  immense  and  immediate,  while 
the  tales  of  her  two  -i-tcr^  made  no  Impression  upon 
the  public  mind.  Her  distinguished  success  must 
have  been  a  source  of  pure  satisfaction  to  the  timid 
author ;  but  it  neither  altered  her  habits,  nor  over- 
came her  di-like  and  shyness  of  company,  nor  very 
materially  affected  the  condition  of  her  home.  It 


48  WOMEN   OF   WOETH. 

gave  her  two  or  three  pleasant  friendships  and  ac- 
quaintances, and  it  supplied  her  with  an  impulse  to 
employ  her  pen;  but  otherwise  effected  scarcely 
any  change  in  her  views  and  pursuits.  Home  was 
still  home,  and  its  meanest  cares  imperative  duties. 
The  time  of  the  author  of  "  Jane  Eyre  "  was  mainly 
devoted  to  the  offices  of  a  housemaid  and  nurse,  for 
the  health  of  all  the  family  required  constant  atten- 
tion, and  her  own  weakness  of  sight  enforced  an 
almost  total  abstinence  from  the  use  of  the  pen. 
In  the  year  1848,  the  wretched  brother  was  called 
away  to  his  last  account ;  and,  alas !  the  threefold 
cord  of  the  beloved  sisterhood  lost  two  of  its 
strands  ;  for  first  Emily,  and  next  Anne,  was  taken 
to  a  better  home,  leaving  Charlotte,  at  the  age  of 
thirty-three,  the  only  surviving  child  of  the  family. 
The  pain  rested  with  the  survivor,  for  the  death  of 
these  excellent  persons  was  a  Euthanasia,  and  they 
passed  into  the  world  of  spirits  with  words  of  peace, 
resignation,  and  hope.  The  last  expressions  of 
Anne  were,  "Soon  all  will  be  well,  through  the 

merits  of  our  Redeemer Take  courage, 

Charlotte,  take  courage."  Charlotte  had  a  heavy 
time  of  it,  but  knew  where  to  resort  for  present 
help  in  trouble :  "  I  do  not  know  how  life  will  pass, 
but  I  do  feel  confidence  in  Him  who  has  upheld  me 
hitherto.  Solitude  may  be  cheered  and  made  en- 
durable beyond  what  I  can  believe."  Again,  giving 
way  to  her  sorrow,  she  Avrites :  "  My  life  is  Avhat  I 
expected  it  to  be.  Sometimes  when  I  wake  in  the 
morning,  and  know  that  solitude,  remembrance, 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE.  49 

and  longing  arc  to  be  almost  my  sole  companions 
all  day  through ;  that  at  night  I  shall  go  to  bed 
with  them ;  that  they  will  long  keep  me  sleepless ; 
that  next  morning  I  shall  awake  to  them  again — 
sometimes,  Nell,  I  have  a  heavy  heart  of  it.  But 
crushed  I  am  not  yet,  nor  robbed  of  elasticity,  nor 
of  hope,  nor  quite  of  endeavor.  I  have  some 
strength  to  fight  the  battle  of  life.  I  am  aware, 
and  can  acknowledge,  I  liave  many  comforts,  many 
mercies.  Still,  I  caa  get  on.  But  I  do  hope  and 
pray  that  never  may  you,  nor  any  one  I  love,  be 
placed  as  I  am.'' 

Throughout  1849  she  had  the  greater  part  of 
the  house  work  to  perform  herself,  being  in  the 
most  delicate  health,  and  to  wait  on  her  father  and 
helpless  old  Tabby,  who  were  both  invalids.  Well 
might  the  old  crone  say,  two  years  afterward,  to 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  im  her  homely  Yorkshire  way,  rct'er- 
ring  to  Charlotte  Bronte's  care  of  her:  "Eh!  she's 
a  good  un — she  is  /" 

After  the  publication  of  "  Shirley,"  Miss  Bront6 
went  t<>  town,  but  lived  in  a  stale  of  almost  entire 
M-rlu-ion  at  her  publishers'.  She  met  the  author 
of  "Vanity  Fair"  by  invitation,  and  says  of  him: 
"Thackeray  is  a  Titan  of  mind.  His  presence 
and  powers  impress  one  deeply  in  an  intellectual 
sense." 

Edinburgh  recehred  a  flying  visit  from  her  in  the 

ini-l^unimer  of  1850,  and  of  that  gr:uidly->ited  city 

she  says:  "Edinburgh,  compared   to  London,   U 

like  a  vivid  page  of  history  compare-!  to  a  large 

4 


50  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

dull  treatise  on  political  economy ;  and  as  to  Mel- 
rose  and  Abbotsford,  the  very  names  possess  music 
and  magic." 

She  was  only  two  days  in  Scotland.  In  the 
same  strain  she  writes  to  an  English  gentleman : 
"  I  always  liked  Scotland,  as  an  idea ;  but  now,  as 
a  reality,  I  like  it  far  better ;  it  furnished  me  with 
some  hours  as  happy  almost  as  any  I  ever  spent. 

My  dear  sir,  do  not  think  I  blaspheme, 

when  I  tell  you  that  your  great  London,  as  com- 
pared to  Dunedin,  'mine  own  romantic  town,'  is 
as  prose  compared  to  poetry,  or  as  a  great  rumb- 
ling, rambling,  heavy  epic,  compared  to  a  lyric, 
brief,  bright,  clear,  and  vital  as  a  flash  of  lightning. 
You  have  nothing  like  Scott's  Monument;  or,  if 
you  had  that,  and  all  the  glories  of  architecture 
assembled  together,  you  have  nothing  like  Arthur's 
Seat ;  and,  above  all,  you  have  not  the  Scottish 
national  character — and  it  is  that  grand  character, 
after  all,  which  gives  the  land  its  true  charm,  its 
true  greatness." 

The  author  of  "  Jane  Eyre"  read  freely  the  best 
French  writers  of  the  day.  Her  expression  of  dis- 
gust at  Balzac's  novels  is  striking.  "  They  leave 
such  a  bad  taste  in  the  mouth."  To  Madame  Du- 
devant  she  is  more  indulgent:  "Fantastic,  fanati- 
cal, unpractical  enthusiast  as  she  often  is — far  from 
truthful  as  are  many  of  her  views  of  life — misled, 
as  she  is  apt  to  be,  by  her  feelings — George  Sand 
has  a  better  nature  than  M.  de  Balzac;  her  brain 
is  larger,  her  heart  warmer  than  his."  On  one  of 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTi.  51 

the  works  of  the  poet-laureate,  she  says — ourselves 
*  ing  of  the  self-same  volume  that  it  is  amongst 
our  hid  treasures :  "  I  have  read  Tennyson's  *  In 
Memoriam,'  or,  rather,  part  of  it;  I  closed  the 
book  when  I  got  about  half- way.  It  is  beautiful 
— it  is  mournful — it  is  monotonous."  We  can  un- 
ilt  -r>tand  tliis  in  the  author-  of  "Jean  Eyre,"  while 
our  personal  feeling  toward  that  choicest  volume 
of  modern  poetry  is  exactly  the  reverse.  We  find 
it  hard  to  drag  ourselves  away  from  it,  dip  into  it 
where  we  will. 

Of  Dr.  Arnold  her  judgment  is  mingled:  "Dr. 
Arnold,  it  seems  to  me,  was  not  quite  saintly ;  his 
greatness  was  cast  in  a  mortal  mould;  he  was  a 
little  severe,  almost  a  little  hard;  he  was  vehe- 
ment, and  somewhat  repugnant After- 
ward come  his  good  qualities:  about  the.se  there 
is  nothing  dubious.  Where  can  we  find  justice, 
firmness,  independence,  earnestness,  sincerity,  fuller 
and  purer  than  in  hint?  ]l\it  this  is  not  all — and  I 
am  glad  of  it.  Besides  high  intellect  and  stainle-s 
rectitude,  his  letters  and  his  life  attot  his  posses- 
sion of  the  m.»t  true-hearted  affection.  Without 
this,  however  one  might  admire,  we  could  not  love 
him ;  but  with  it,  I  think  we  love  him  much.  A 
hundred  such  men — fifty,  nay,  ten  or  five — such 
righteous  men,  might  save  any  country,  might  vic- 
toriously champion  any  ca\sc." 

Writing  of  Miss  Martineau,  during  a  visit  to 
that  lady  at  Amble-ide,  Miss  Bronte  declares: 
"Of  my  kind  hostess  I  cannot  speak  in  terms  too 


52  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

high.  Without  being  able  to  share  all  her  opin- 
ions, philosophical,  political,  or  religious ;  without 
adopting  her  theories,  I  yet  find  a  worth  and 
greatness  in  herself,  and  a  consistency,  benevo- 
lence, perseverance  in  her  practice,  such  as  win 

the  sincerest  esteem  and  affection Slue 

seems  to  me  the  benefactress  of  Ambleside,  yet 
takes  no  sort  of  credit  to  herself  for  her  active  and 

indefatigable  philanthropy Her  servants 

and  her  poor  neighbors  love  as  well  as  respect 
her." 

Of  Ruskin  her  judgment  is  generous:  "The 
*  Stones  of  Venice '  seem  nobly  laid  and  chiselled. 
How  grandly  the  quarry  of  vast  marbles  is  dis- 
closed !  Mr.  Ruskin  seems  to  me  one  of  the  few 
genuine  writers,  as  distinguished  from  book-makers, 

of  this  age He  writes  like  a  consecrated 

priest  of  the  abstract  and  ideal." 

In  1851  Miss  Bronte  saw  the  Great  Exhibition 
in  Hyde  Park,  but  with  no  great  interest.  "  It  is 
a  marvellous,  stirring,  bewildering  sight — a  mix- 
ture of  a  genii  palace  and  a  mighty  bazaar ;  but  it 
is  not  much  in  my  way."  More  in  her  way  was 
it  to  hear  D'Aubigne  preach,  and  Thackeray  lec- 
ture, and  the  terrible  Rachel  declaim.  We  are 
disposed  to  believe  that,  in  her  judgment  of  the 
French  tragedienne,  she  unconsciously  allowed  her- 
self to  be  drawn  into  the  error  of  identifying  the 
actress  with  the  parts  she  performed — the  very 
injustice  which  she  herself  complained  of  when 
Charlotte  Bronte  was  pronounced  to  be  Jane  Eyre. 


CHARLOTTE   BRONT^.  53 

"Rachel's  acting  transfixed  me  with  wonder,  en- 
chained  me  with  interest,  and  thrilled  me  with 

horror. It  is  MMIV<-]\  human  nature  that 

she  shows  you ;  it  is  something  wilder  and  worse 
— the  feelings  and  fury  of  a  fiend.  The  great  gift 
of  genius  she  undoubtedly  has;  but  I  fear  she 
rather  abuses  it  than  turns  it  to  good  account." 
Now,  with  all  deference  to  Miss  Bronte's  judg- 
ment, the  wrong  lies  not  at  the  door  of  the  actress 
who  represents  a  Phtedra  or  Potiphar's  wife  with 
a  startling  resemblance  to  reality,  but  in  that  state 
of  public  morals  which  takes  such  a  theme  for  a 
dramatic  composition,  and  tolerates  its  exhibition 
on  the  stage. 

To  the  touching  power  of  Kingsley's  drama  r>n 
St.  Elizabeth,  she  bears  testimony :  "  I  have  rend 
the  '  Saint's  Tragedy.'      As  a  work  of  art,  it  s 
to  me  far  superior  to   either  'Alton  Lock* 
'Yeast.'    Faulty  it  may  be,  crude  and  unequal,  yet 
there  are  portions  where  some  of  the  deep  chords 
of  human  nature  are  swept  with  a  hand  which  is 

strong  even  while  it  falters Seldom  do 

I  cry  over  books;  but  here  my  eyes  rained  as  I 
rr:i'l.  When  Kli/abeth  turns  IHT  face  to  the  wall, 
I  stopped — there  needed  no  more." 

H'-r  notion  of  the  political  characters  of  1852  is 
amusing:  "Disraeli  was  factious  as  leader  of  the 
Opposition ;  Lord  John  Russell  is  going  to  be  fac- 
tious, now  that  he  has  stepped  into  Disraeli's 
shoes.  Lord  Derby's  'Christian  love  and  spirit 
is  worth  three-half-pence  farthincr." 


54:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

On  Miss  Kavanagh's  "Women  of  Christianity," 
she  passes  the  following  just  strictures :  "  She  for- 
gets, or  does  not  know,  that  Protestantism  is  a 
quieter  creed  than  Romanism;  as  it  does  not 
clothe  its  priesthood  in  scarlet,  so  neither  does  it 
set  up  its  good  women  for  saints,  canonize  their 
names,  and  proclaim  their  good  works.  In  the 
records  of  man  their  almsgiving  will  not,  perhaps, 
be  found  registered ;  but  heaven  has  its  account  as 
well  as  earth." 

The  happiness  which  our  heroine  had  long  looked 
for,  by  a  release  from  an  irksome  solitude,  at  last 
made  its  appearance  in  a  union  with  a  Mr.  Nicholls, 
who  had  for  years  been  the  observant  witness  of 
her  virtues  in  his  position  of  Mr.  Bronte's  curate. 
But  her  draught  was  brief;  for  nine  months  there- 
after, after  protracted  weakness  and  suffering,  she 
laid  down  the  load  of  life  in  the  parsonage  at 
Haworth,  and  departed  to  be  forever  with  the 
Lord.  No  more  satisfying  testimony  to  the  purity 
of  her  wedded  bliss  can  be  required,  than  that  fur- 
jiished  by  her  last  unpremeditated  words  to  her 
husband :  "  Oh,  I  am  not  going  to  die,  am  I  ?  He 
3yj.ll  not  separate  us,  we  have  been  so  happy!" 
But,  alas !  the  sentence  had  gone  forth,  and,  early 
in  April,  1855,  all  that  was  earthly  of  Charlotte 
Nicholls,  nee  Bront6,  was  committed  to  the  dust, 
and  sleeps  with  the  sleepers  in  Haworth  Church, 
awaiting  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 

The  impression  left  upon  our  mind  by  the  perusal 
of  this  fascinating  history  is  one  of  unutterable  sad- 


CHARLOTTE   BRONTE. 

ness,  arising  from  sympathy  with  the  heroine,  ami 
of  the  highest  admiration  of  her  stainless  character 
and  career.  Kvcry  tiling  was  against  her  through 
life — plainness  of  person,  poverty,  a  solitude  and 
•anritiiuauui  of  soul  that  no  one  could  appreciate, 
and  disappointment  of  almost  every  expectation 
ajid  wi>h.  Yet  she  nobly  struggled  on — her  watch- 
word DUTY,  and  her  reliance  Heaven.  Such  is  the 
testimony  of  her  life-long  friend,  who,  in  an  extract 
given  at  the  close  of  her  memoir,  writes  thus: 
"  She  thought  much  of  her  duty,  and  had  loftier 
and  clearer  notions  of  it  than  most  people,  and  held 
to  them  with  more  success.  It  was  done,  it 
seems  to  me,  with  much  more  difficulty  than  peo- 
ple have  of  stronger  nerves  and  better  fortunes. 
All  her  life  was  but  labor  and  pain ;  and  she  never 
threw  down  the  burden  for  the  sake  of  piv>»-nt 
pleasure."  This  is  a  true  record,  and  justified  by 
a  thousand  incidents  in  Miss  Bronte's  correspond- 
ence and  history.  We  should  be  doing  an  injustice 
to  the  memory  of  this  singularly-excellent  person, 
did  we  not  present,  in  connection  with  this  sketch, 
a  letter  to  a  young  friend  written  in  1846,  which 
clearly  exhibits  her  own  principles  of  action : — 

"  I  see  you  are  in  a  dilemma,  and  one  of  a  pecul- 
iar and  difficult  nature.  Two  paths  lie  before  you; 
you  conscientiously  wish  to  choose  the  right  one, 
oven  though  it  be  t'uu  most  steep,  straight,  and 
rugged.  But  you  do  not  know  which  is  the  right 
one;  you  cannot  decide  whether  duty  and  religion 
command  you  to  go  out  into  a  cold  and  friendless 


56  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

world,  and  there  to  earn  your  living  by  governess- 
drudgery,  or  whether  they  enjoin  your  continued 
stay  with  your  aged  mother,  neglecting,  for  the 
present,  every  prospect  of  independency  for  your- 
self, and  putting  up  with  daily  inconvenience,  some- 
times even  with  privations.  I  can  well  imagine 
that  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  you  to  decide  for 
yourself  in  this  matter ;  so  I  will  decide  it  for  you; 
at  least  I  will  tell  you  what  is  my  earnest  convic- 
tion on  the  subject — I  will  show  you  candidly  how 
the  question  strikes  me.  The  right  path  is  that 
which  necessitates  the  greatest  sacrifice  of  self- 
interest,  which  implies  the  greatest  good  to  others ; 
and  this  path,  steadily  followed,  will  lead,  I  believe, 
in  time,  to  prosperity  and  happiness,  though  it  may 
seem  at  the  outset  to  tend  quite  in  a  contrary 
direction.  Your  mother  is  both  old  and  infirm; 
old  and  infirm  people  have  but  few  sources  of  hap- 
piness, fewer,  almost,  than  the  comparatively  young 
and  healthy  can  conceive :  to  deprive  them  of  one 
of  these  is  cruel.  If  your  mother  is  more  composed 
when  you  are  with  her,  stay  with  her.  If  she 
would  be  unhappy,  in  case  you  left  her,  stay  with 
her.  It  will  not  apparently,  as  far  as  shortsighted 
•humanity  can  see,  be  for  your  advantage  to  remain 
.at  — =-,  nor  will  you  be  praised  and  admired  for 
remaining  at  hpnae  to  comfort  your  mother;  yet 
probably  your  .pwn  conscience  will  approve,  and, 
if  it  does,  stay  with  her.  I  recommend  you  to  do 
what  I  am  trying  to  do  myself,"  The  pure  soul 
of  the  writer  ;of  ;this  letter  contended  successfully 


CHAKLOTTK   BBONTE.  57 

through  her  whole  life  against  selfish  instincts  and 
unfriendly  circumstances,  as  the  broad  river  of 
Egypt,  in  its  beneficent  march  to  the  sea,  has  re- 
1,  from  age  to  age,  the  sandy  incursions  of  the 
desert ;  and,  beneficent  as  the  fertilizing  Nile,  none 
approached  Charlotte  Bronte  whom  she  did  not 


SS  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 


THE  NEWGATE  SCHOOLMISTKESS. 

ELIZABETH  FRY. 

MBS.  ELIZABETH  FRY  was  the  third  daughter  of 
the  late  John  Gurney,  of  Earlham  Hall,  near  Nor- 
wich. Her  childhood  was  characterized  by  strong 
affection  and  great  mental  vivacity.  She  early 
evinced  an  angelic  disposition  to  alleviate  the  cares 
and  soothe  the  sorrows  of  all  those  around  her 
who  needed  sympathy  and  aid.  As  she  increased 
in  years,  her  inclinaticn  and  powers  of  doing  good 
extended  and  strengthened,  the  youthful  stirrings 
of  benevolence  gradually  became  principles  of  phi- 
lanthropy, and  the  kind  and  spontaneous  actions  of 
her  juvenile  years  were  performed  in  her  opening 
womanhood  from  a  sense  of  Christian  duty.  She 
took  especial  pleasure  in  organizing  and  superin- 
tending a  school  upon  her  father's  premises  for  the 
indigent  children  of  Earlham  and  the  surrounding 
parishes,  and  the  effect  which  her  mild  authority 
and  judicious  instructions  produced  upon  these 
hitherto-neglected  little  ones,  was  a  powerful  illus- 
tration of  the  potency  of  gentle  means,  when  em- 
ployed to  guide  the  young  in  the  path  of  learning, 


KI.I/.A1S1-.TII     I-UV.  59 

or  to  rai<e  them  from  moral  debasement.  Not- 
ivith^tar.ding  this  ami  several  other  similar  benevo- 
lent pur-uits  Mi-s  Guruey's  attachment  to  worldly 
pleasure-  \\ns  not  compatible  with  that  gravity  of 
deportment  and  subdued  mildness  of  manners 
common  to  the  members  of  the  persuasion  to 
which  she  subsequently  belonged,  her  natural 
vivacity,  and  the  companionship  of  those  who 
made  pleasure  their  pursuit,  having  a  tendency  to 
divide  her  mind  with  the  practical  and  holy  opera- 
tions of  benevolence.  But  "infinitely  higher  and 
better  things  than  the  follies  and  vanities  of  pol- 
i>hed  life,  awaited  this  interesting  young  person," 
says  the  writer  of  her  obituary,  in  the  "  Friends' 
Annual  Monitor."  She  was  affected  by  a  disease 
which  assumed  a  serious  character,  and  she  thus 
became  awakened  to  a  true  sense  of  the  instability 
of  human  life  and  the  vanity  of  those  inferior 
pleasures  which  have  not  their  source  in  the  higher 
principles  of  our  nature,  but  depart  with  our  capa- 
bilities of  enjoying  them.  Soon  after  her  illness 
she  was  powerfully  awakened  to  a  knowledge  of 
her  relation  to  God,  and  of  her  relation  to  mankind 
iu  their  character  of  brethren  in  Christ,  through 
the  mini-try  of  an  American  friend,  the  late  Wil- 
liam Savery.  She  forsook  the  pleasures  which  had 
hitherto  divided  her  mind  and  time,  and  in  the 
bosom  of  her  family  cultivated  those  social  and 
endearing  qualities  which  render  home  a  temple 
of  the  affections  make  woman  a  priestess  of  love, 
and  elevate  the  hearth  into  an  altar  of  peace  and 


60  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

unity.  She  became  the  joy  and  comfort  of  her 
widowed  father  and  of  her  ten  brothers  and  sisters; 
and  in  her  own  family  she  schooled  her  heart  to 
that  abandonment  of  self,  and  anxiety  for  the  good 
of  others,  which  inspired  her  with  a  Christian 
philanthropy  scarcely  paralleled,  and  a  courage 
which  was  superior  to  obstruction,  danger,  or  im- 
moral obduracy,  and  rendered  her  an  invincible 
conqueror  in  her  crusade  against  vice  in  its  most 
hardened  and  appalling  forms. 

In  the  year  1 800,  when  she  was  twenty  years  of 
age,  Miss  Gurney  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Joseph 
Fry,  a  banker  in  London,  and  settled  in  a  house 
connected  with  her  husband's  business,  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  Great  Babylon.  It  may  easily  be  sup- 
posed that,  in  the  metropolis,  objects  and  scenes 
of  especial  interest  would  frequently  be  presented 
to  this  benevolent  lady,  and  that  her  active  philan- 
thropy and  holy  aspirations  for  human  weal  would 
not  be  blunted  in  consequence  of  her  new  relations 
as  a  beloved  wife  and  tender  mother.  The  poor 
found  in  her  an  untiring  benefactress  and  a  willing 
friend.  She  visited  their  lowly  homes,  and,  if  she 
found  them  worthy,  their  wants  were  effectually 
relieved. 

Shortly  after  her  marriage,  Mrs.  Fry  became  im- 
pressed with  the  opinion  "  that  it  would  be  requir- 
ed of  her  to  bear  public  testimony  to  the  efficacy 
of  that  divine  grace  by  which  she  had  been  brought 
to  partake  of  the  joy's  of  God's  salvation;"  and 
when  she  had  reached  the  thirtieth  year  of  her 


ELIZABETH    IKY.  61 

age,  she  began  to  speak  in  the  religious  meetings 
of  the  Friends.  Her  exhortations  were  marked  by 
peculiar  humility  and  much  persuasive  sweetness 
of  manner,  and  she  wras  early  engaged  with  the 
unity  of  the  monthly  meeting  to  which  she  belong- 
ed, in  paying  religious  visits  to  Friends  and  others 
of  various  denominations.  And  now  we  have  ar- 
rived at  the  most  remarkable  era  of  her  life — at 
that  period  which  begins  the  history  of  her  glorious 
career  of  reformation,  when,  strong  in  faith  and 
charity,  she  entered  the  receptacles  of  the  outcast 
and  impious,  and  bore  to  the  hearts  of  the  demor- 
alized criminals  human  sympathy  and  heavenly 
hope.  Newgate,  that  grave  of  pollution,  whose 
name  we  were  taught  to  associate  with  all  that 
was  dark  and  fearful,  was  visited  about  1812  by 
Mrs.  Fry,  who  was  induced  to  inspect  it  by  repre- 
sentations of  its  condition  made  by  some  members 
of  the  Society  of  Friends.  The  prison  had  been 
constructed  to  hold  about  four  hundred  and  eighty 
prisoners,  but  eight  hundred,  and  even  twelve  hun- 
divd,  had  been  immured  within  its  walls.  Mrs. 
Fry  found  the  female  side  in  a  most  deplorable 
and  indescribable  condition.  Xearly  three  hun- 
dred women,  sent  there  for  every  species  and 
iation  of  crime — some  untried,  and  therefore 
presumably  innocent — others  under  sentence  of 
death — were  promiscuously  huddled  together  in 
the  two  wards  and  two  rells  which  were  afterward 
appropriated  to  the  untried,  whose  numbers  were 
even  inconveniently  large  for  the  limited  space 


62  WOMEN  OF   WORTH. 

Here  the  criminals  saw  their  friends  and  kept  their 
multitude  of  children,  and  here  they  also  cooked, 
washed,  took  their  victuals,  and  slept.  They  lay 
down  on  the  floor,  sometimes  to  the  number  of 
one  hundred  and  twenty  in  one  ward,  without 
even  a  mat  for  bedding,  and  many  of  them  very 
miserably  clad.  They  openly  drank  ardent  spirits, 
and  their  horrible  imprecations  broke  upon  the 
ears  of  this  pure-minded  and  noble  lady,  mingled 
with  offensive  and  disgusting  epithets.  Every 
thing  was  filthy  and  redolent  of  disgusting  effluvia. 
No  prison  functionary  liked  to  visit  them,  and  the 
governor  persuaded  Mrs.  Fry  to  leave  her  watch 
in  his  office,  assuring  her  that  his  presence  would 
not  prevent  its  being  torn  from  her ;  and  as  if  to 
illustrate  the  frightful  extent  to  which  vice  and 
wretchedness  can  sink  our  nature  and  deaden  our 
feelings,  two  women  were  seen  in  the  act  of  strip- 
ping a  dead  child  for  the  purpose  of  clothing  a 
living  one.  It  must  be  recollected  that  this  is  no 
exaggerated  picture  of  that  den  of  pollution,  New- 
gate, in  those  days.  Mrs.  Fry's  own  simple,  yet 
powerful  testimony  is  before  us,  and  she  thus  ex- 
presses herself:  "All  I  tell  thee  is  a  faint  picture 
of  the  reality ;  the  filth,  the  closeness  of  the  rooms, 
the  ferocious  manners  and  expressions  of  the  women 
toward  each  other,  and  the  abandoned  wickedness 
which  every  thing  bespoke,  are  quite  indescri- 
bable." We  do  not  know  which  quality  most  to 
admire  in  this  magnanimous  woman — the  exalted 
sympathy  which  recognized  in  these  outcasts  a 


1  I  IXABETII    FRY.  63 

common  humanity,  or  the  heroic  courage  which 
supported  her  in  her  ministrations  of  love  and 
mercy.  She  clothed  many  of  the  children  and 
some  of  the  women,  and  read  passages  of  the  Bible 
to  them  in  such  soft  and  silvery  tones,  that  latent 
feeling  awoke  in  their  bosoms,  and  the  big  tear 
started  into  many  an  eye.  She  left  that  prison 
with  a  strong  conviction  that  much  might  be  done; 
but  circumstances  intervened  for  three  years  to 
render  efforts  on  her  part  inoperative. 

About  Christmas,  1816,  she  resumed  her  visits, 
and  found  that  much  improvement  had  been  made 
by  the  jail  committee;  especially  the  females  had 
additional  accommodation  conceded  to  them ;  they 
were  provided  with  mats,  and  gratings  had  been 
erected  to  prevent  close  communication  between 
the  criminals  and  their  visitors.  Still,  the  chief  evil 
remained  i m remedied — all  the  women  were  playing 
curds  reading  improper  books,  begging,  or  fight- 
ing for  the  division  of  the  money  thus  acquire.! ; 
and  a  fortune-teller  was  imposing  upon  the  credu- 
lous and  ignorant  prisoners  with  her  absurd  divi- 
nations. There  were  continual  complaints  of  want 
of  employment,  and  declarations  that  profitless 
idleness  had  only  been  substituted  for  active  vice. 
Mrs.  Fry's  first  undertaking  was  the  education  of 
about  seventy  children,  who,  in  this  abode  of  ini- 
quity, were  wandering  about  unheeded,  which  was 
no  sooner  proposed,  than  the  most  abandoned 
mothers  thanked  her  with  tears  in  t lieir  eyes  for 
her  benevolent  intentions,  and  young  women 


64:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

crowded  round  her,  and  prayed  in  pathetic  eager- 
ness to  be  admitted  to  her  projected  school. 

Application  was  now  made  to  the  governor  of 
Newgate,  sheriffs  of  London,  and  the  reverend 
prison  ordinary.  These  gentlemen  cordially  ap- 
proved of  her  intentions,  but  they  intimated  "  their 
persuasion  that  her  efforts  would  be  utterly  fruit- 
less" So  little  zeal  did  they  manifest  in  further- 
ance of  this  scheme  of  piety,  that  an  official  intima- 
tion informed  Mrs.  Fry  that  there  was  no  vacant 
place  in  the  prison  fit  for  school  purposes.  But 
she  was  not  disheartened ;  she  mildly  requested  to 
be  admitted  once  more  alone  among  the  women, 
that  she  might  investigate  for  herself.  She  soon 
discovered  an  empty  cell,  and  the  school  was 
opened  the  very  next  day.  Mrs.  Fry  was  accom- 
panied by  a  young  lady,  who  had  visited  New- 
gate for  the  first  time,  and  who  had  generously 
enlisted  under  the  banner  of  philanthropy,  to  as- 
sist in  the  work  of  reclamation  so  gloriously  begun 
by  her  exalted  friend.  When  they  entered  the 
prison  school,  the  railing  was  crowded  by  women, 
many  of  whom  were  only  half-clothed,  struggling 
for  front  situations,  and  vociferating  most  violently. 
The  young  lady  felt  as  if  she  had  entered  a  den  of 
wild  beasts ;  and  when  the  door  closed  and  Avas 
locked  upon  her,  she  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  being 
immured  with  such  a  host  of  desperate  companions. 
The  first  day's  work,  however,  surpassed  the  ut- 
most expectations  of  Mrs.  Fry,  and  the  only  pain 
she  experienced  was  that  of  refusing  numerous 


ELIZABETH    FRY.  (55 

pressing  applications  from  young  women,  who 
prayed  to  be  taught  and  employed.  The  assurances 
and  zeal  of  these  poor  forlorn  creatures,  induced 
Mrs.  Fry  and  her  companion  to  project  a  school 
where  the  tried  women  should  be  taught  to  read 
and  work.  When  this  idea  was  first  expressed  to 
the  friends  of  the  projectors,  it  was  declared  to  be 
visionary  and  impracticable.  They  were  told  that 
the  work  introduced  would  be  stolen;  that  women 
so  long  habituated  to  crime  and  idleness  were  the 
nio-t  irreelaim:il)le  of  the  vicious;  that  novelty 
might,  for  a  time,  induce  apparent  attention  and  a 
temporary  observance  of  rule,  but  that  the  change 
would  not  be  lasting.  In  short,  failure  was  predict- 

it  h  ahn«  «-t  oracular  confidence.  Nothing  could 
induce  the  ladies,  however  to  abandon  their  forlorn 
and  almost  unsupported  enterprise:  from  earth 
they  turned  their  eyes  to  heaven,  and  when  men 
forsook  them,  they  asked  aid  of  (lod  ami  took 
They  declared  if  a  committee  could  lie 

1  who  would  share  the  labor,  and  a  matron 
who  would  engage  to  live  in  the  prison  niirlit  and 
day,  they  would  undertake  the  experiment — that 
is  they  would  jiml  employment  for  the  women; 

would  procure  funds  for  the  prosecution  <•!' 
their  scheme  till  the  city  could  be  induced  to  re- 
lieve them  of  the  expense;  and  they  promised  to 
become  responsible  for  the  projK-rty  intruded  to 
tli-'  prisoner-.  Volunteers  for  this  glorious  seni'-f 
immediately  presented  them<el\  •  >  :  the  wife  of  a 

\ man  and  eleven  members  of  the  Society  of 


66  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

Friends  declared  their  willingness  to  suspend  every 
other  engagement  and  calling,  and  to  devote  them- 
selves to  this  good  work,  and  faithfully  they  did 
their  self-imposed  duty.  They  almost  entirely  lived 
amongst  the  prisoners  ;  not  a  day  or  hour  passed 
but  some  of  them  were  to  be  found  at  their  posts, 
sharing  the  employments  and  meals  of  their  prote- 
gees, or  abstemiously  instructing  their  pupils,  from 
morning  till  long  after  the  close  of  day.  Yet  ah 
their  toils,  and  the  progress  of  those  for  whose  ad- 
vantage they  labored,  were  insufficient  to  eradicate 
the  skepticism  of  some  who  viewed  their  exertions. 
The  reverend  ordinary  admired  their  intrepid  devo- 
tion; but  he  assured  Mrs.  Fry  that  her  designs 
would  inevitably  fail.  The  governor  cheered  her 
with  words  of  sympathy,  but  those  who  possessed 
his  confidence  were  accustomed  to  hear  him  de- 
clare "  that  he  could  not  see  the  possibility  of  her 
success."  But  that  charity  which  "hopeth  ah1 
things,  and  believeth  all  things  "  was  strong  within 
her  ;  she  looked  to  the  goal,  and  not  to  the  impedi- 
ments in  her  path ;  she  looked  beyond  the  means 
to  the  consummation ;  she  was  wiling  souls  from 
the  meshes  and  snares  of  sin,  and  she  sought  under 
God  to  lead  her  erring  sisters  into  the  fold  of 
grace.  She  presented  herself  to  the  sheriffs  and 
governor,  and  nearly  one  hundred  women  were 
brought  before  them,  who  solemnly  engaged  to 
yield  the  strictest  obedience  to  all  the  regulations 
of  their  heroic  benefactress.  A  set  of  rules  was 
accordingly  promulgated,  and  the  vices  which  the 


KM2ABKTH    FRY.  07 

prisoners  had  formerly  fostered  were  discarded 
and  disclaimed.  After  a  month's  private  exertion, 
the  corporation  of  London  was  invited  to  behold 
the  effects  of  these  noble  women's  labors.  The 
lord  mayor,  sheriffs,  and  several  aldermen  attended. 
The  prisoners  were  assembled,  and,  in  accordance, 
with  the  usual  practice,  one  of  the  ladies  re.nl  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible,  when  the  prisoners  proceeded 
to  their  various  employments.  What  a  change 
was  here  to  the  accustomed  tumult,  filth,  and  li- 
centiousness of  former  days !  Their  attention  to 
the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  ;  their  modest  deport- 
ment, obedience,  and  respectful  demeanor;  and 
the  cheerfulness  visible  on  their  faces,  conspired 
to  excite  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  all  who 
beheld  them.  They  were  no  longer  a  herd  of  irre- 
claimable creatures,  whose  sympathies  with  the 
world  were  destroyed,  and  for  whom  the  world  had 
no  longer  any  sympathy.  Kindness  h:id  awakened 
reciprocal  sentiments  in  their  breasts,  and  mankind 

!  no  longer  deny  the  possibility  of  their  ivda- 
nvitiori  to  the  ranks  of  humanity.  The  prison 
hid  c.-;-.-d  to  be-  a  nursery  of  crime ;  its  cells  no 

•r  resounded  with  the  laugh  of  women  dead 
to  hope  aii'l  shame;  the  bitter  imprecation  and  the 
SCOff  of  hardened  hearts  lri-1  died  away  ;  and  |" 
cleanliness,  and  order,  reigned  under  the  influence 
of  those  true  -inters  of  charity — Mrs.  I«Yy  and  her 
assistants.  The  magistrates,  to  mark  their  appre- 
ciation of  this  system,  incorporated  it  with  the 
Newgate  Code  of  regulations.  They  empowered 


68  WOMEN   OF   WOKTII. 

the  ladies  to  punish  the  refractory  by  temporary 
confinement,  undertook  to  defray  part  of  the  ma- 
tron's sustentation,  and  loaded  the  ladies  with 
thanks  and  blessings. 

A  year  passed  away,  and  still  the  little  band  of 
philanthropists  was  cheered  by  progression ;  infi- 
delity fell  before  indubitable  truth ;  and  success, 
confirmed  by  so  long  a  trial,  at  last  forced  convic- 
tion on  those  who  had  doubted  and  predicted 
failure,  and  all  who  beheld  the  vast  change  which 
had  been  effected,  expressed  their  satisfaction-  and 
astonishment  at  the  great  improvement  which  had 
taken  place  in  the  conduct  of  the  females.  Mrs. 
Fry  did  not  confine  herself  to  the  amelioration  of 
prisons  exclusively ;  she  visited  lunatic  asylums 
with  the  same  high  ard  holy  purpose.  It  was  her 
habit,  when  she  did  so,  to  sit  down  quietly  amongst 
her  afflicted  fellow-mortals,  and,  amidst  the  greatest 
turbulence,  begin  to  read  in  her  sweetest  tones 
some  portion  of  the  Bible.  Gradually  the  noise 
around  her  would  cease,  eager  ears  would  be  bent 
to  drink  the  music  of  her  voice,  and  at  last  atten- 
tion and  silence  would  reign  around  her.  On  one 
occasion,  a  yoitng  man  was  observed  to  listen  atten- 
tively, although  ordinarily  one  of  the  most  turbu- 
lent and  violent  of  the  patients.  He  became  sub- 
dued even  to  tears.  When  Mrs.  Fry  ceased  read- 
ing, the  poor  maniac  exclaimed  to  her :  "  Hush, 
the  angels  hare  lent  you  their  voices  /"  Fancy  and 
reason  combined  could  not  have  offered  a  more 
beautiful  compliment  to  goodness  and  benignity. 


ELIZABETH    FST.  69 

It  was  Mrs.  Fry's  regular  practice  to  attend  at 
Newgate  on  a  particular  morning  of  the  week  to 
read  the  Scriptures  to  the  prisoners.  The  prison 
was  open  to  any  visitors  whom  she  chose  to  ad- 
mit, and  her  readings  were  attended  both  by  our 
own  countrymen  :uid  foreigners,  among  whom  were 
many  of  rank  and  power.  These  were  most  affect- 
ing reunions,  both  to  those  who  came  as  visitors, 
and  they  who  claimed  especially  these  services. 

Mrs.  Fry's  attention  \\  as  not  wholly  absorbed  by 
Newgate.  The  female  prisoners  in  other  parts  of 
the  city  were  ministered  to  by  her.  In  the  prose- 
cution of  her  plans  of  reformation,  she  was  gener- 
ously supported  by  the  city  authorities,  and  suc- 
\e  secretaries  of  state  seconded  her  benevolent 
views.  The  British  Ladies'  Society  for  the  refor- 
mation of  female  prisoners  owes  its  origin  to  her 
exertions ;  and  a  similar  system  of  reform,  by  means 
of  associated  committees,  was  begun  in  many  prisons 
in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 

Mrs.  Fry's  indefatigable  zeal  for  good,  induced 
her  to  press  her  views  upon  the  governments  and 
monarcliR  of  the  continental  nations  ;  and  she  and 
every  lover  of  humanity  had  the  inestimable  satis- 
faction of  seeing  her  plans  adopted  in  France,  Hol- 
land, Denmark,  Russia,  Switzerland,  Prussia,  sev- 
eral of  the  minor  German  States,  and  in  Philadel- 
phia, and  other  parts  of  the  United  States  of 
America.  Mrs.  Fry  materially  promoted  her  ob- 
jects by  the  publication  of  a  pamphlet,  in  which 
she  promulgated  her  views  on  the  species  of  prison 


70  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

discipline  necessary  for  females,  and  of  the  only 
sound  principles  of  punishment.  Death  punish- 
ments, in  her  estimation,  were  completely  ineffica- 
cious in  stopping  the  progress  of  crime,  and  she 
disapproved  of  them  also  upon  loftier  grounds  than 
that  of  expediency;  she  did  not  condemn  the  Draco- 
like  proceedings  of  our  judiciary  from  maudlin 
theory.  She  often  visited  the  cells  of  condemned 
criminals  on  the  day  or  night  before  their  execu- 
tion ;  she  saw  the  agony  of  soul  endured  by  some, 
the  insolent  bravado  manifested  by  others,  and  she 
observed  that  death  punishment  generally  produced 
an  obduracy  in  its  victims,  which  reacted  on  their 
criminal  observers,  or  those  who  came  to  gaze  on 
the  last  scene  of  all.  Mrs.  Fry  and  her  associates 
had  voluntarily  conceded  to  them  by  government 
the  care  and  superintendence  of  convict-ships  for 
females  about  to  be  transported  to  New  South 
Wales ;  and  so  important  Avere  their  improvements, 
and  judicious  their  regulations  in  this  department, 
that  the  colonial  authorities  frequently  transmitted 
them  their  grateful  acknowledgments.  All  the 
poor  convicts  were  supplied  with  several  articles 
necessary  for  their  comfort,  and  each  was  carefully 
provided  with  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

Mrs.  Fry's  name  is  principally  connected  with 
her  prison  labors ;  but  her  humanity  was  boundless. 
She  had  sympathy  for  every  species  of  distress,  and 
a  hand  to  aid  in  every  object  of  human  ameliora- 
tion. By  her  influence — the  influence  of  humble 
piety  and  active  virtue — she  stimulated  many  indi- 


ELIZABETH   FRY.  71 

viduals  ]  lowering  the  power,  to  institute  district 
societies  for  tin-  effectual  relief  of  the  destitute  and 
the  houseless,  and  also  for  the  educating  of  those 
neglected  children  whose  only  tuition  had  pre- 
viously been  that  of  crime.  She  chiefly  a^isted  in 
the  formation  of  libraries  for  the  use  of  the  coast- 
guard, in  all  their  stations  around  the  British  isles. 

In  18 is,  Mrs.  Fry  visited  Scotland  in  company 
with  her  brother  Joseph  John  Gurney,  and  her 
sister-in-law,  Eli/abet h  Fry;  and  in  ls-_'7,  >he 
vi-ilt-d  Irelainl.  Still  the  same  benevolent  spirit 
guided  her.  It  may  be  eniphatieally  said  that  she 
"  went  about  doing  good."  In  foreign  lands,  or  in 
her  own  country,  she  meekly  vet  fearlessly  inter- 
1  for  the  persecuted  aint  op|  ivssrd,  and  to  her 
is  attributable  much  of  that  enlargement  of  the 
liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  softening  of  the  rigors 
of  prison  discipline,  which  has  taken  place  in  Eu 
rope  of  late  years. 

The  king  of  Prussia  courted  the  friendship  of 
this  great  and  good  woman;  and  in  1H4-J,  when  on 
a  \i-it  to  (M-.-at  Britain  with  his  queen  and  family, 
lie  visited  her  at  Upton.  By  his  particular  request 
she  met  him  at  the  Man>ion-house,  between  the 
hours  of  public  worship  on  Sunday,  30th  January, 
and  they  passed  two  hours  in  conversation  together, 
at  the  close  of  which  the  king  expressed  a  strong 
desire  to  meet  her  in  Newgate,  at  her  reading  next 
day.  She  met  him  in  company  with  her  brother 
and  sister,  and  the  wife  of  the  mayor,  Lady  Pine. 
The  king  was  attended  by  several  noblemen,  foreign 


72  WOilEN    OF   WORTH. 

and  English.  He  led  Mrs.  Fry  through  the  pas- 
sages and  apartments  of  the  prison,  until  they 
reached  the  seats  placed  for  them  at  the  extremity 
of  a  line  of  tables,  at  which  the  prisoners,  attentive 
and  serious,  were  arranged.  A  solemn  silence  en- 
sued. Mrs.  Fry  then  read  the  12th  chapter  of 
Romans,  and  a  psalm.  Stillness  again  reigned  for 
a  short  space,  and  then  she  addressed  all  present, 
adverting  to  the  perfect  equality  of  all  men  in  the 
sight  of  God,  declaring  that  if,  through  the  grace 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  are  brought  to  be- 
come his  disciples,  we  are  made  one  in  him,  even 
from  the  lowest  and  most  degraded  of  the  poor 
prisoners  before  her  to  the  sovereign  at  her  side. 
Mrs.  Fry  then  knelt  in  prayer,  the  king  kneeling 
down  beside  her,  and  in  an  extemporaneous  effu- 
sion of  great  fervor  and  sweetness,  she  prayed  in 
behalf  of  the  prisoners,  and  also  for  his  maiesty's 
sanctification  through  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  solemn 
and  affecting  service  being  concluded,  the  king  ac- 
companied Mrs.  Fry  to  her  own  residence. 

In  the  summer  of  1843,  Mrs.  Fry  visited  Paris 
for  the  last  time,  and  concerted  with  several  benev- 
olent friends  for  the  prosecution  of  works  of 
goodness  and  charity.  After  her  return  home  she 
became  seriously  indisposed,  and  the  symptoms 
were  such  as  to  alarm  her  friends  and  family ;  yet 
she  bore  her  trouble  with  Christian  resignation, 
and  recognized  in  all  her  pains  the  hand  of  God. 
As  the  spring  of  1844  advanced,  her  health  was  so 
far  restored  as  to  permit  her  to  ride  out  occasion- 


ELIZABKTII   FRY.  73 

ally,  ami  in  the  summer  she  joined  her  friends  in 
public  worship.  On  this  occasion  she  was  accom- 
1  by  several  members  of  her  family,  and  her 
son,  William  Storrs  Fry,  sat  beside  her  and  ten- 
derly watched  his  feeble  parent.  Alas  for  the  un- 
certainty of  life  and  strength!  He,  with  two  of 
hi<  children,  were  shortly  afterward  removed  from 
tin-  family  circle,  and  hi*  afflicted  parent  saw  him 
pass  away  before  her.  She  again  attended  the 
religious  meeting  of  Friends  at  Plaistow,  on  the 
l."th  of  October,  and  addressed  those  assembled 
with  great  clearness  and  power.  She  gradually 
regained  strength,  and  was  enabled  once  more  to 
resume  her  ministry  of  love.  Near  the  close  of  the 
summer  of  1845,  she  went  with  her  husband  to 
Uanisgate,  an  earnest  hope  being  entertained  that 
change  of  air  and  scene  would  benefit  her.  She 
attended  a  little  meeting  at  Drapers,  and  repeated- 
ly engaged  in  religious  service  among  the  few 
Friends  tin-re.  She  distributed  a  great  many 
Bibles;  and  a  ship  crowded  with  (Jerman  emi- 
grants, bound  for  Texas,  was  provided  with  one 
for  each  of  the  passengers. 

A  :    >    i  i\  s  before  her  death  she  applied  to  the 
committee  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society 
ruing  the  purchase  of  a  supply  of  copies  of 
the    Scriptures.      The   committee,    through    their 
tary,   informed    her    that    she    should    receive 
them  grati-,  and  that  they  felt  it  a  privilege  to  cir- 
culate them  through  her  ministrations.     They  also 
sent  her,  as  a  token  of  esteem,  a  copy  of  their  first 


74  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

translation  of  one  of  the  gospels  in  the  Chinese 
language.  She  was  engaged  in  projects  aifecting 
the  weal  of  mankind  to  the  very  hour  in  which  she 
was  seized  with  her  fatal  illness.  On  the  evening 
of  Saturday,  the  llth  of  October,  1845,  slight 
symptoms  of  paralysis  were  apparent.  Early  next 
morning,  when  very  ill,  she  alluded  to  the  conflict 
which  nature  then  endured,  adding,  "J2ut  I  am 
safe"  In  a  short  time  after  she  uttered  a  short 
prayer  to  God,  and  after  this  all  consciousness 
appeared  to  forsake  her.  About  four  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  12th,  her  pure  spirit  left  its 
frail  tenement  of  clay  and  ascended  to  Him  who 
gave  it. 

The  history  of  Mrs.  Fry  can  hardly  be  said  to 
end  with  her  death.  The  deeds  men  do  often  die 
with  them ;  not  so  with  hers.  Her  spirit  of  active 
benevolence  has  been  transmitted  to  many,  and  the 
works  she  promoted  are  carried  on  by  others  who 
have  been  impelled  to  engage  in  them  by  her  ex- 
ample. We  cannot  leave  our  subject  without 
assuring  our  readers  that  this  eminently  good 
woman  was  supported  in  her  manifold  labors  by  a 
constant  faith  in  Christ,  and  an  assurance  of  divine 
aid.  May  the  humblest  in  life's  lowly  course  be 
similarly  strengthened,  and,  according  to  their 
means,  may  they  profit  by  her  example  of  love  and 
charity !  In  closing  this  memoir,  for  the  materials 
of  which  we  have  been  mainly  indebted  to  an  emi- 
nent philanthropist  and  friend  of  Mrs.  Fry,  we  ex- 
tract the  foUowing  truthful  and  beautiful  tribute 


ELIZABETH   FRY.  75 

to  her  worth,  written  in  1816,  by  Francis  Jeffrey: 
"  \Ve  cannot  ttn'y  the  happiness  which  Mrs.  Fry 
mu-t  enjoy  from  the  consciousness  of  her  own 
lievements,  but  there  is  no  happiness  or 
honor  of  which  we  should  be  so  proud  to  be  par- 
takers;  an«l  we  seem  to  relieve  our  own  hearts  of 
their  share  of  national  gratitude  in  thus  placing  on 
her  simple  and  modest  brow  that  truly  civic  crown, 
which  far  outshines  the  laurels  of  conquest  or  the 
coronals  of  power,  and  can  only  be  outshone  itself 
by  those  wreaths  of  imperishable  glory  which 
awaits  the  champions  of  faith  and  charity  in  a 
higher  state  of  existence." 


76  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 


THE  JAIL  MISSIONARY. 

SARAH  MARTIN, 

WHO  has  won  for  herself  the  fame  most  desirable 
for  a  woman,  that  of  Christian  benevolence,  a  fame 
indeed  unsurpassed  in  the  annals  of  her  sex,  was 
born  in  1791.  Her  father  was  a  poor  mechanic  in 
Caister,  a  village  three  miles  from  Yarmouth. 
Sarah  was  the  only  child  of  her  parents,  who  both 
died  when  she  was  very  young :  she  had  then  to 
depend  on  her  grandmother,  a  poor  old  widow, 
whose  name  was  Bonnett,  and  who  deserves  to 
have  it  recorded  for  the  kind  care  she  took  of  her 
grand-daughter. 

Sarah  Martin's  education  was  merely  such  as  the 
village  school  afforded.  At  the  age  of  fourteen 
she  passed  a  year  in  learning  the  business  of  dress- 
making ;  and  then  gained  her  livelihood  by  going 
out  and  working  at  her  trade  by  the  day,  among 
the  families  of  the  village.  In  the  town  of  Yar- 
mouth was  the  county  prison,  where  criminals 
were  confined:  their  condition  was  at  that  period 
most  lamentable. 

Their  time  was  given  to  gaming,  swearing,  play- 


SARAH   MARTIN.  77 

ing,  fighting,  and  bad  language  ;  and  their  visitors 

admitted  from  without  with  little  restriction. 

Tin-re  was  no  divine  worship  in  the  jail  on  Sun- 

.  nor  any  respect  paid  to  that  holy  day. 
There  were  underground  cells  (these  continued 
even  down  to  183G),  quite  dark,  and  deficient  in 
proper  ventilation.  The  prisoners  described  their 
heat  in  summer  as  almost  suffocating,  but  they 
preferred  them  for  their  warmth  in  winter;  their 
situation  was  such  as  to  defy  inspection,  and  they 
altogether  unfit  for  the  confinement  of  any 
human  being. 

No  person  in  Yarmouth  took  thought  for  these 
poor,  miserable  prisoners;  no  human  eye  looked 
with  pity  on  their  dreadful  condition;  and  had 
their  reformation  been  proposed,  it  would,  no 
doubt,  have  been  scouted  as  an  impossibility. 

In  August,  1819,  a  woman  was  committed  to 
the  jail  for  a  most  unnatural  crime.  She  was  a 
mother  who  had  "forgotten  her  sucking  child." 
She  had  not  u  had  compassion  upon  the  son  of  her 
womb,"  l»ut  had  cruelly  beaten  and  ill-used  it.  The 

'.deration  of  her  offence  was  calculated  to  pro- 
duce a  ^nat  effect  upon  a  female  mind;  and  there 
was  one  person  in  the  neighborhood  of  Yarmouth 
who  was  deeply  moved  by  it.  Sarah  Martin  was 
a  little  woman,  of  gentle,  <juict  manners,  possess- 
ii.'_-  no  beauty  of  person,  nor,  as  it  seemed,  any 
iar  endowment  of  mind.  She  was  then  just 
eight,  and.  twenty  years  of  age,  and  had,  for  thir- 
teen years  past,  earned  her  livelihood  by  going  out 


78  WOMEN   OF   WOETII. 

to  the  houses  of  various  families  in  the  town  as  a 
day-laborer  in  her  business  of  dress-making.  From 
her  residence  at  Caister,  where  sho  lived  with  her 
aged  grandmother,  she  walked  to  Yarmouth  and 
back  again  in  the  prosecution  of  her  daily  toil. 
This  poor  girl  had  long  mourned  over  the  con- 
dition of  the  inmates  of  the  jail.  Even  as  long 
back  as  in  1810,  "whilst  frequently  passing  the 
jail,"  she  says,  "I  felt  a  strong  desire  to  obtain 
admission  to  the  prisoners  to  read  the  Scriptures 
to  them ;  for  I  thought  much  of  their  condition, 
and  of  their  sin  before  God ;  how  they  were  shut 
out  from  society,  whose  rights  they  had  violated, 
and  how  destitute  they  were  of  the  scriptural  in- 
struction, which  alone  could  meet  their  unhappy 
circumstances."  The  case  of  the  unnatural  mother 
stimulated  her  to  make  the  attempt,  but  "I  did 
not,"  she  says,  "  make  known  my  purpose  of  seek- 
ing admission  to  the  jail  until  the  object  was  at- 
tained, even  to  my  beloved  grandmother ;  so  sen- 
sitive was  my  fear  lest  any  obstacle  should  thereby 
arise  in  my  way,  and  the  project  seem  a  visionary 
one.  God  led  me,  and  I  consulted  none  but  Him." 
She  ascertained  the  culprit's  name,  and  went  to 
the  jail.  She  passed  into  the  dark  porch  which 
overhung  the  entrance,  fit  emblem  of  the  state  of 
things  within ;  and,  no  doubt  with  bounding  heart, 
and  in  a  timid,  modest  form  of  application,  uttered 
with  that  clear  and  gentle  voice,  the  sweet  tones 
of  which  are  yet  well  remembered,  solicited  per- 
mission to  see  the  cruel  parent.  There  was  some 


SARAH   MARTIN. 

difficulty — there  is  always  a  "lion  in  the  way"  of 
doing  good — and  she  was  not  at  first  permitted  to 
enter.  To  a  wavering  mind  such  a  check  would 
have  appeared  of  evil  omen;  but  Sarah  Martin 
was  too  well  assured  of  her  own  purposes  and 
I  lowers  to  hesitate.  Upon  a  second  application 
she  was  admitted. 

The  manner  of  her  reception  in  the  jail  is  told 
in  herself  with  admirable  simplicity.  The  unnat- 
ural mother  stood  before  her.  She  "  was  surpris- 
ed at  the  sight  of  a  stranger."  "When  I  told 
her,"  says  Sarah  Martin,  "the  motive  of  my  vi>it, 
of  her  guilt,  and  of  her  need  of  God's  mercy,  she 
burst  into  tears  and  thanked  me!" 

Her  reception  at  once  proved  the  necessity  for 
such  a  missionary,  and  her  own  personal  fitness  for 
the  task;  and  her  visit  was  repeated  again  and 
again,  during  such  short  intervals  of  leisure  as  she 
could  spare  from  her  daily  labors.  At  first  she 
contented  herself  \\itli  merely  reading  to  the  pris- 
oners; but  familiarity  with  their  wants  and  with 
her  own  powers  soon  enlarged  the  sphere  of  her 
tuition,  and  she  began  to  instruct  them  in  readinu 
and  writing.  This  extension  of  her  labor  inter 
fered  with  her  ordinary  occupations.  It  became 
necessary  to  sacrifice  a  portion  of  her  time,  and 
consequently  of  her  means,  to  these  new  duti<-<. 
She  did  not  hesitate.  "I  thought  it  right,"  she 

"to  give  up  a  day  in  the  week  from  <1 
making  to   serve   the   prisoners.     This    regularly 
given,  with  many  an  additional  one,  was  not  felt 


80  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

as  a  pecuniary  loss,  but  was  ever  followed  with 
abundant  satisfaction,  for  the  blessing  of  God  was 
upon  me." 

In  the  year  1826,  Sarah  Martin's  grandmother 
died,  and  she  -came  into  possession  of  an  annual 
income  of  ten  or  twelve  pounds,  derived  from  the 
investment  of  "between  two  and  three  hundred 
pounds."  She  then  removed  from  Caister  to  Yar- 
mouth, where  she  occupied  two  rooms  in  a  house 
situated  in  a  row  in  an  obscure  part  of  the  town ; 
and,  from  that  time  devoted  herself  with  increased 
energy  to  her  philanthropic  labors.  A  benevolent 
lady,  resident  in  Yarmouth,  had,  for  some  years, 
with  a  view  to  securing  her  a  little  rest  for  her 
health's  sake,  given  her  one  day  in  a  week,  by  com- 
pensating her  for  that  day  hi  the  same  way  as  if 
she  had  been  engaged  in  dressmaking.  With  that 
assistance,  and  with  a  few  quarterly  subscriptions, 
"  chiefly  25.  Qd.  each,  for  Bibles,  Testaments,  tracts, 
and  other  books  for  distribution,"  she  went  on  de- 
voting every  available  moment  of  her  life  to  her 
great  purpose.  But  dress-making,  like  other  pro- 
fessions, is  a  jealous  mistress ;  customers  fell  off, 
and,  eventually,  almost  entirely  disappeared.  A 
^question  of  anxious  moment  now  presented  itself, 
the  determination  of  which  is  one  of  the  most 
characteristic  and  memorable  incidents  of  her  life. 
Was  she  to  pursue  her  benevolent  labors,  even 
although  they  led  to  utter  poverty?  '  Her  little 
income  was  not  more  than  enough  to  pay  her 
lodging,  and  the  expenses  consequent  upon  the 


SARAH    MAKTIX.  81 

exercise  of  her  charitable  functions:  and  was  ac- 
tual destitution  of  ordinary  necessaries  to  be  sub- 
mitted to?  She  never  doubted;  but  her  reasoning 
upon  the  subject  presents  so  clear  an  illustration 
of  the  exalted  character  of  her  thoughts  and  pur- 
poses, and  exhibits  so  eminent  an  example  of 
Christian  dcvotedness  and  heroism,  that  it  would 
be  an  injustice  to  her  memory  not  to  quote  it  in 
her  own  words:  "In  the  full  occupation  of  dress- 
making, I  had  care  with  it,  and  anxiety  for  the 
future;  but  as  that  disappeared,  care  fled  also. 
God,  who  had  called  me  into  the  vineyard,  had 
said,  *  Whatsoever  is  right  I  will  give  you.'  I  had 
Iramed  from  the  Scriptures  of  truth  that  I  should 
be  supported ;  God  was  my  master,  and  would  not 
forsake  His  servant ;  He  was  my  father,  and  could 
not  forget  his  child.  I  knew  also  that  it  some- 
times seemed  good  in  His  sight  to  try  the  faith 
and  patience  of  His  servants,  by  bestowing  upon 
them  very  limited  means  of  support;  as  in  the 
case  of  Naomi  and  Ruth ;  of  the  widow  of  Zare- 
phath  and  Elijah  ;  and  my  mind,  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  such  trials,  seemed  exalted  by  more  than 
human  energy;  for  I  had  counted  the  cost,  and 
my  mind  was  made  up.  If,  whilst  imparting  truth 
to  others,  I  became  exposed  to  temporal  want,  the 
privation  so  momentary  to  an  individual  would  not 
admit  of  comparison  with  following  the  Lord,  in 
thus  administering  to  others." 

1  UT  next  object  was  to  secure  the  observance  of 
C 


82  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Sunday ;  and,  after  long  urging  and  recommenda- 
tion, she  prevailed  upon  the  prisoners  "  to  form  a 
Sunday  service,  by  one  reading  to  the  rest ;  .  .  .  . 
but  aware,"  she  continues,  "  of  the  instability  of  a 
practice  in  itself  good,  without  any  corresponding 
principle  of  preservation,  and  thinking  that  my 
presence  might  exert  a  beneficial  tendency,  I 
joined  their  Sunday-morning  worship  as  a  regular 
hearer." 

After  three  years'  perseverance  in  this  "  happy 
and  quiet  course,"  she  made  her  next  advance, 
which  was  to  introduce  employment,  first  for  the 
women  prisoners,  and  afterward  for  the  men.  In 
1823,  "one  gentleman,"  she  says,  "presented  me 
with  ten  shillings,  and  another,  in  the  same  week, 
with  a  pound,  for  prison  charity.  It  then  occurred 
to  me  that  it  would  be  well  to  expend  it  in  material 
for  baby-clothes ;  and  having  borrowed  patterns,  cut 
out  the  articles,  fixed  prices  of  payment  for  making 
them,  and  ascertained  the  cost  of  a  set,  that  they 
might  be  disposed  of  at  a  certain  price,  the  plan 
was  carried  into  effect.  The  prisoners  also  made 

shirts,  coats,  etc By  means  of  this  plan, 

many  young  women  who  were  not  able  to  sew, 
learned  this  art,  and,  in  satisfactory  instances,  had 
a  little  money  to  take  at  the  end  of  the  term  of 

imprisonment The  fund  of  one  pound 

ten  shillings  for  this  purpose,  as  a  foundation  and 
perpetual  stock  (for  whilst  desiring  its  preserva- 
tion, I  did  not  require  its  increase),  soon  rose  to 
seven  guineas,  and  since  its  establishment,  above 


SARAH   MARTIN.  83 

four  hundred  and  eight  pounds'  worth  of  various 
nrticle.s  have  been  sold  for  charity." 

The  mm  were  thus  employ e<l  : 

"They  m:i«le  straw  hats,  and,  at  a  later  period, 
bone  spoons  ainl  seals ;  others  made  men's  and 
boys'  caps  cut  in  eiirht  quarters — the  material,  old 
cloth  or  moreen,  or  whatever  my  friends  could  find 
to  give  me  for  them.  In  some  instances,  young 
men,  and  more  frequently  boys,  have  learned  to 
sew  gray  cotton  shirts,  or  even  patch- work,  with 
\v  of  shutting  out  idleness  and  making  them- 
selves useful.  On  one  occasion  I  showed  to  the 
prisoners  an  etching  of  the  chess-player,  by  Retzsch, 
which  two  men,  one  a  shoemaker  and  the  other  a 
bricklayer,  desired  much  to  copy;  they  were  al- 
lowed to  do  so,  and  being  furnished  with  pencil, 
pen,  paper,  etc.,  they  succeeded  remarkably  well. 
The  chess-j>layer  presented  a  pointed  and  striking 
lesson,  whieh  could  well  be  applied  to  any  kind  of 
gaming,  and  was,  on  this  account,  suitable  to  my 
pupils,  who  had  generally  descended  from  the  love 
of  marbles  and  pitch-half-penny  in  children,  to 
;  c.,  in  men.  The  business  of  copy- 
inir  it  had  the  advantage  of  requiring  all  thought 
and  at trntion  at  the  time.  The  attention  of 
other  prisoners  was  attracted  to  it,  and  for  a 
y.  ar  or  two  afterward  many  continued  to  copy 

it." 

After  another  interval  she  proceeded  to  the  for- 
mation of  a  fund  whieh  she  applied  to  the  furnish- 
ing of  work  for  prisoners  upon  their  discharge; 


84:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

"affording  me,"  she  adds,  "the  advantage  of  ob- 
serving their  conduct  at  the  same  time." 

She  had  thus,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years — 
during  which  her  mind  had  gradually  expanded  to 
the  requirements  of  the  subject  before  her — pro- 
vided for  all  the  most  important  objects  of  prison 
discipline:  moral  and  intellectual  tuition,  occupa- 
tion during  imprisonment,  and  employment  after 
discharge.  Whilst  great  and  good  men,  unknown 
to  her,  were  inquiring  and  disputing  as  to  the  way 
and  the  order  in  which  these  very  results  were  to 
be  attained — inquiries  and  disputes  which  have  not 
yet  come  to  an  end — here  was  a  poor  woman  who 
was  actually  herself  personally  accomplishing  them 
all !  It  matters  not  whether  all  her  measures  were 
the  very  wisest  that  could  have  been  imagined. 
She  had  to  contend  with  many  difficulties  that  are 
now  unknown ;  prison  discipline  was  then  in  its 
infancy ;  every  thing  she  did  was  conceived  in  the 
best  spirit;  and,  considering  the  time,  and  the 
means  at  her  command,  could  scarcely  have  been 
improved. 

The  full  extent  to  which  she  was  personally  en- 
gaged in  carrying  out  these  objects,  has  yet  to  be 
explained.  The  Sunday  service  in  the  jail  was 
adopted,  as  we  have  seen,  upon  her  recommenda- 
tion, and  she  joined  the  prisoners,  as  a  fellow- 
worshipper,  on  Sunday  morning.  Their  evening 
service,  which  was  to  be  read  in  her  absence,  was 
soon  abandoned ;  but  finding  that  to  be  the  case, 
she  attended  on  that  part  of  the  day  also,  and  the 


pririkMT*  ibu.  fT«f  fc 

to  UM  prtuatTi.  f.  r 


:ns    \M.   inn  JAM.  •  I>M,I:K.ATIOH. 

•  hirh  wu  to  W  ml   la  ferr  aUrar*.  ...  MM  itanlnnl.  kit. 

•fed  «•  Uwl  part  of  ih.  day  •!«••.  and   I!M  MrrW  ••«  tkn  r*- 


SARAH    MARTIN.  85 

service  was  then  resumed.  "After  several  changes 
of  readers,  the  office,"  she  says,  "  devolved  on  me. 
Th:it  happy  privilege  thus  graciously  opened  to 
me,  and  embraced  from  necessity,  and  in  much 

was  acceptable  to  the  prisoners,  for  God 
made  it  so;  and  also  an  unspeakable  advantage 
and  comfort  to  myself."  These  modest  sentences 
convey  but  a  very  faint  notion  of  the  nature  of 

singular  services.  Fortunately,  in  a  report 
of  Captain  Williams,  one  of  the  inspectors  of 
prisons,  we  have  a  far  more  adequate  account  of 
the  matter.  It  stands  thus  : 

"  Sunday,  November  29,  1835. — Attended  divine 
service  in  the  morning  at  the  prison.  The  male 
prisoners  only  were  assembled;  a  fem.-ilr,  resident 
in  the  town,  officiated;  her  voice  was  exceedingly 
melodious,  her  delivery  emphatic,  and  her  elimi- 
nation cxtrnnely  distinct.  The  service  was  the 
liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England;  two  psalms  were 
sung  by  the  whole  of  the  prisoners,  and  extremely 
well — much  better  than  I  have  frequently  heard  in 
our  best-appointed  churches.  A  written  discourse, 
of  her  own  composition,  was  read  by  her ;  it  was 
of  a  purely  moral  tendency,  involving  no  doctrinal 
points,  and  admirably  suited  to  the  hearers.  Dur- 
ing the  performance  of  the  service,  the  prisoners 
paid  the  profoundest  attention,  ami  the  most 
marked  re>pect;  and,  as  far  as  it  is  possible  to 
judge,  appeared  to  take  a  devout  interest.  Eve- 
ning servit •!•  was  read  by  her  afterward  to  the 
female  prisoners.'* 


86  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

We  believe  that  there  are  gentlemen  in  the 
world  who  stand  so  stiffly  upon  the  virtue  of  cer- 
tain forms  of  ministerial  ordination,  as  to  set  their 
faces  against  all  lay,  and  especially  against  all 
female,  religious  teaching.  We  will  not  dispute 
as  to  what  may,  or  may  not,  be  the  precise  value 
of  those  forms.  They  ought  to  confer  powers  of 
inestimable  worth,  considering  how  stubbornlj 
they  are  defended — and  perhaps  they  do  so ;  but 
every  one  amongst  us  knows  and  feels  that  the 
power  of  writing  or  preaching  good  sermons  is  not 
amongst  the  number.  The  cold,  labored  eloquence 
which  boy-bachelors  are  authorized  by  custom  and 
constituted  -authority  to  inflict  upon  us — the  dry 
husks  and  chips  of  divinity  which  they  bring  forth 
from  the  dark  recesses  of  the  theology  (as  it  is 
called)  of  the  fathers,  or  of  the  middle  ages,  sink 
into  utter  worthlessness  by  the  side  of  the  jail 
addresses  of  this  poor,  uneducated  seamstress. 
From  her  own  registers  of  the  prisoners  who  came 
under  her  notice,  it  is  easy  to  describe  the  ordinary 
members  of  her  congregation :  pert  London  pick- 
pockets, whom  a  cheap  steamboat  brought  to  reap 
a  harvest -at  some  country  festival;  boors,  whom 
ignorance  and  distress  led  into  theft;  depraved 
boys,  who  picked  up  a  precarious  livelihood 
amongst  the  chances  of  a  seaport  town;  sailors, 
who  had  committed  assaults  in  the  boisterous  hi- 
larity consequent  upon  a  discharge  with  a  paid-up 
arrear  of  wages ;  servants,  of  both  sexes,  seduced 
by  bad  company  into  the  commission  of  crimes 


SARAH   MARTIN.  87 

against  tlu-ir  masters;  profligate  women,  who  had 

!  a-Njwlt  or  theft  to  the     ordinary  vices  of  a 

litvntious  lit\-;  smugglers;  a  few  game-law  crinri- 

:  and  paupers  transferred  from  a  workhouse, 

where  they  had  been  initiated  into  crime,  to  a  jail, 

where  their  knowledge  was  perfected.     Such  were 

some  of  the  usual  classes  of  persons  who  assembled 

around  this  singular  teacher  of  righteousness. 

Noble  woman!  A  faith  so  firm,  and  so  disin- 
fd,  might  have  removed  mountains;  a  self- 
sacrifice  founded  upon  such  principles  is  amongst 
the  most  heroic  cf  human  achievements. 

This  appears  to  have  been  the  busiest  period  of 
Sarah  Martin's  life.  Her  system,  if  we  may  so 
term  it,  of  superintendence  over  the  prisoners,  was 
now  complete.  For  six  or  seven  hours  daily  she 
took  her  station  amongst  them;  converting  that 
wlm-li,  without  her,  would  have  been,  at  best,  a 
scene  of  dissolute  idleness,  into  a  hive  of  industry 
and  order.  "We  have  already  explained  the  nature 
of  the  employment  which  she  provided  for  them ; 
the  manner  of  their  instruction  is  described  as  fol- 
lows: "Any  one  who  could  not  read,  I  encouraged 
to  learn,  whilst  others  in  my  absence  assisted  them. 
They  wi-iv  taught  to  write  also;  whilst  such  as 
could  write  already,  copied  extracts  from  books 
lent  to  them.  Prisoners  who  were  able  to  read, 
committed  verses  from  the  Holy  Scriptures  to  nu-m- 
ory  every  day  according  to  their  ability  or  inclina- 
tion. I,  as  an  example,  also  committed  a  \\-\\- 
verses  to  memory  to  repeat  to  them  every  day; 


88  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

and  the  effect  was  remarkable;  always  silencing 
excuse  when  the  pride  of  some  prisoners  would 
have  prevented  their  doing  it.  Many  said  at  first, 
'  It  would  be  of  no  use ;'  and  my  reply  was,  '  It  is 
of  use  to  me,  and  why  should  it  not  be  so  to  you? 
You  have  not  tried  it,  but  I  have.'  Tracts  and 
children's  books,  and  large  books,  four  or  five  in 
number,  of  which  they  were  very  fond,  were  ex- 
changed in  every  room  daily,  whilst  any  who  could 
read  more  were  supplied  with  larger  books." 

There  does  not  appear  to  have  been  any  instance 
of  a  prisoner  long  refusing  to  take  advantage  of 
this  mode  of  instruction.  Men  entered  the  prison 
saucy,  shallow,  self-conceited,  full  of  cavils  and  ob- 
jections, which  Sarah  Martin  was  singularly  clever 
in  meeting ;  but  in  a  few  days  the  most  stubborn, 
and  those  who  had  refused  the  most  peremptorily, 
either  to  be  employed  or  to  be  instructed,  would 
beg  to  be  allowed  to  take  their  part  in  the  general 
course.  Once  within  the  circle  of  her  influence, 
the  effect  was  curious.  Men  old  in  years,  as  well 
as  in  crime,  might  be  seen  striving  for  the  first 
time  in  their  lives  to  hold  a  pen,  or  bending  hoary 
heads  over  primers  and  spelling-books,  or  study- 
ing to  commit  to  memory  some  precept  taken  from 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  Young  rascals,  as  impudent 
as  they  were  ignorant,  beginning  with  one  verse, 
went  on  to  long  passages;  and  even  the  dullest 
were  enabled  by  perseverance  to  furnish  their 
minds  and  memories  with  "  from  two  to  five  verses 
every  day."  All  these  operations,  it  must  be  borne 


SARAH   MARTIN.  89 

in  mind,  were  carried  on  under  no  authority  save 
what  was  <lt-rivril  from  the  teacher's  innate  force 
of  character.  Aware  of  that  circumstance,  and 
that  any  rebellion  would  be  fatal  to  her  usefulness, 
she  so  contrived  every  exercise  of  her  power  as  to 
••make  a  favor  of  it,"  knowing  well  that  "to  de- 
part from  this  course,  would  only  be  followed  by 
the  prisoners  doing  less,  and  not  doing  it  well." 
The  ascendency  she  thus  aquired  was  very  singular. 
A  general  persuasion  of  the  sincerity  with  which 
"she  watched,  and  wept,  and  prayed,  and  felt  for 
all,"  rendered  her  the  general  depositary  of  the 
little  confidences,  the  tales  of  weakness,  treachery, 
and  sorrow,  in  the  midst  of  which  she  stood ;  and 
thus  she  was  enabled  to  fan  the  rising  desire  for 
emancipation,  to  succor  the  tempted,  to  encourage 
the  timid,  and  put  the  erring  in  the  way. 

After  the  close  of  her  labors  at  the  jail,  she  pro- 
ceeded, at  one  time  of  her  life,  to  a  large  school 
which  she  superintended  at  the  workhouse;  and 
afterward,  when  that  school  was  turned  over  to 
proper  teachers,  she  devoted  two  nights  in  the 
week  to  a  school  for  factory  girls,  which  was  held 
in  the  capacious  chancel  of  the  old  church  of  Si. 
\ichola-.  There,  or  elsewhere, she  wa<  every  thing. 
Other  teachers  would  send  their  classes  to  stand 
by  and  listen  while  Sarah  Marl  in,  in  her  strik- 
ing an  1  e!li-cti\e  way,  imparted  instruction  to  the 
forty  or  fitly  young  women  who  were  fortunate 
enough  to  be  more  especially  her  pupils.  Kvery 
countenance  was  upon  her;  and  as  the  questions 


90  WOMKX    OF    WORTH. 

went  round,  she  would  explain  them  by  a  piece 
of  poetry,  or  an  anecdote,  which  she  had  always 
ready  at  command,  and,  more  especially,  by  Scrip- 
ture illustration.  The  Bible  was,  indeed,  the  great 
fountain  of  her  knowledge  and  her  power.  For 
many  years  she  read  it  through  four  times  every 
year,  and  had  formed  a  most  exact  reference  book 
to  its  contents.  Her  intimate  familiarity  with  its 
striking  imagery  and  lofty  diction,  impressed  a 
poetical  character  upon  her  own  style,  and  filled 
her  mind  with  exalted  thoughts.  After  her  class 
duties  were  over,  there  remained  to  be  performed 
many  offices  of  kindness,  which  with  her  were  con- 
sequent upon  the  relation  of  teacher  and  pupil ; 
there  was  personal  communication  with  this  scholar 
and  with  that;  some  inquiry  here,  some  tale  to 
listen  to  there ;  for  she  was  never  a  mere  school- 
mistress, but  always  the  friend  and  counselor,  as 
well  as  the  instructor. 

The  evenings  on  which  there  was  no  tuition  were 
devoted  by  her  to  visiting  the  sick,  either  in  the 
workhouse,  or  through  the  town  generally;  and 
occasionally  an  evening  was  passed  with  some  of 
those  worthy  people  in  Yarmouth  by  whom  her 
labors  were  regarded  with  interest.  Her  appear- 
ance in  any  of  their  houses  was  the  signal  for  a 
busy  evening.  Her  benevolent  smile,  and  quick, 
active  mannner  communicated  her  own  cheerful- 
ness and  energy  to  every  one  around  her.  She 
never  failed  to  bring  work  with  her,  and,  if  young 
people  were  present,  was  sure  to  employ  them  all. 


SARAH   MARTIN.  91 

Something  was  to  be  made  ready  for  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  prisoners,  or  for  their  instruction;  pat- 
terns or  copies  were  to  be  prepared,  or  old  mate- 
rials to  be  adjusted  to  some  new  use,  in  which  last 
emplo\  iiinu  her  ingenuity  was  pre-en.inent.  Odd 
pieces  of  woollen  or  cotton,  scraps  of  paper,  mere 
litters,  things  which  other  people  threw  away,  it 
mattered  not  what,  she  always  begged  that  such 
things  might  be  kept  for  her,  and  was  sure  to  turn 
them  to  some  account.  If,  on  such  occasions, 
whiUt.  everybody  else  was  occupied,  some  one 
would  read  aloud,  Sarah  Martin's  satisfaction  was 
complete:  and  at  intervals,  if  there  were  no  stran- 
gers piv>ent,  or  if  such  communication  were  de- 
sired, she  would  dilate  upon  the  sorrows  and  suf- 
ferings of  her  guilty  flock,  and  her  own  hopes  and 
disappointments  in  connection  with  them,  in  the 
language  of  simple,  animated  truth. 

llr  day  was  closed  by  no  "return  to  a  cheerful 
liroide  prepared  by  the  cares  of  another,"  but  to 
her  solitary  apartments,  which  she  had  left  locked 
up  during  her  absence,  and  where  "most  of  the 
don i« Mir  offices  of  life  were  performed  by  her  own 
hands."  There  she  kept  a  copious  record  of  her 
proceedings  in  reference  to  the  prisoners;  notes  of 
their  circumstances  and  conduct  during  such  time 
as  they  were  under  her  observation,  which  gener- 
ally extended  long  beyond  the  period  of  their  im- 
prisonment ;  with  most  exact  accounts  of  the 
expenditure  of  the  little  subscriptions  before  men- 
tioned, and  also  of  a  small  annual  payment  from 


92  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

the  British  Ladies'  Society,  established  by  Mrs. 
Fry,  and  of  all  other  money  committed  to  her  in 
aid  of  any  branch  of  her  charitable  labors.  These 
books  of  record  and  account  have  been  fery  prop- 
erly preserved,  and  have  been  presented  to  a  pub- 
lic library  in  Yarmouth. 

In  scenes  like  these  Sarah  Martin  passed  her 
time,  never  appealing  to  think  of  herself;  indeed 
her  own  scanty  fare  was  hardly  better  than  that  of 
the  poorest  prisoner.  Yet  her  soul  was  triumphant, 
and  the  joy  of  her  heart  found  expression  in  sacred 
song.  Nothing  could  restrain  the  energy  of  her 
mind..  In  the  seclusion  of  a  lonely  chamber,  "  apart 
from  all  that  could  disturb,  and  in  a  universe  of 
calm  repose,  and  peace,  and  love ;"  when  speaking 
of  herself  and  her  condition,  she  remarked,  in  words 
of  singular  beauty, 


:  I  seem  to  lie 


So  near  the  heavenly  portals  bright, 
I  catch  the  streaming  rays  that  fly 
From  eternity's  own  light." 

Thus  she  cheered  her  solitary  room  with  strains 
of  Christian  praise  and  gratitude,  and  entered  the 
dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  with  hymns  of 
victory  and  triumph.  She  died  on  the  15th  of 
October,  1843,  aged  fifty-two  years. 

Sarah  Martin  is  one  of  the  noblest  of  the  Christ- 
ian heroines  the  nineteenth  century  has  produced. 
The  two  predominant  qualities  of  her  soul  were 
love,  or  "  the  charity  which  hopeth  all  things," 
and  moral  courage ;  both  eminently  feminine  en- 


SARAH    MARTOT.  93 

dowments.  She  performed  her  wonderful  works 
with  true  womanly  discretion.  She  is,  therefore, 
an  example  of  excellence  of  whom  her  sex  should 
be  more  than  proud — they  should  be  thankful  for 
this  light  of  moral  loveliness  enshrined  in  a  female 
form.  "  Her  gentle  disposition,"  says  one  of  her 
biographers,  "never  irritated  by  disappointment, 
nor  her  charity  strai  tened  by  ingratitude,  pre- 
sent a  combination  of  qualities  which  imagination 
sometimes  portrays  as  the  ideal  of  what  is  pure 
and  beautiful,  but  which  are  rarely  found  em- 
bodiod  with  humanity.  She  was  no  titular  Sister 
of  Charity,  but  was  silently  felt  and  acknowledged 
to  be  one,  by  the  many  outcast  and  destitute  per- 
sons who  received  encouragement  from  her  lips  and 
relief  from  her  hands,  and  by  the  few  who  were 
witnesses  of  her  good  works. 

It  is  the  business  of  literature  to  make  such  a 
life  stand  out  from  the  masses  of  ordinary  exist- 
ences, with  something  of  the  distinctness  with 
which  a  lofty  building  uprears  itself  in  the  confur 
sion  of  a  distant  view.  It  should  be  made  t,o  at* 
tract  all  t  \ .  <,  to  excite  the  hearts  of  all  persona 
who  think  the  welfare  of  their  fellow-mortals  an 
object  of  interest  or  duty ;  it  should1  be  included 
in  collections  of  biography,  and  chronicled  in  the 
high  places  of  history ;  men  should  be  taught  to 
estimate  it  as  that  of  one  whose  philanthropy  has 
entitled  her  to  renown,  and  children  to  associate 
the  name  of  Sarah  Martin  with  those  of  Howard, 
Buxton,  Fry — the  most  benevolent  of  mankind. 


94:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 


THE  WORKER  OF  CHARITY. 

MARGARET  MERCER, 

WHO  deserves  a  place  among  the  most  distin- 
guished of  her  sex,  for  her  noble  philanthropy,  and 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  female  education,  was  born 
at  Annapolis,  Maryland,  United  States,  in  1791. 
The  family  of  Mercer  was  descended  from  an 
ancient  English  stock,  transplanted  to  America 
soon  after  its  colonization,  and  the  race  has,  in  its 
new  location,  done  honor  to  the  source  from 
whence  it  was  derived.  The  father  of  Margaret 
was,  at  the  time  of  her  birth,  governor  of  Mary- 
land, a  man  of  excellent  education,  refined  taste, 
and  large  wealth.  Retiring  from  public  life,  Gov- 
ernor Mercer  withdrew  to  his  estate  at  Cedai 
Fork,  and  devoted  himself  to  agricultural  pursuits, 
and  the  training  of  his  children.  Margaret  was  his 
only  daughter,  and  her  education  was  conducted 
under  his  immediate  care,  with  little  assistance 
from  other  teachers :  she  often  remarked,  that  she 
had  been  "  brought  up  at  her  father's  feet."  Mar- 
garet Mercer  is  another  example  of  the  beneficial 
influence  which  thorough  mental  training  exercises 


MABGAKKT    MKUi'Ki:  95 

on  woman's  character,  by  enabling  her  to  make 
her  moral  power  more  respected  and  more  effect- 
ive. Scarcely  an  instance  can  be  found  where  a 
father  has  aided  and  encouraged  the  mental  im- 
provement of  his  daughter,  but  that  she  has  done 
honor  to  his  care  and  kindness,  and  been  one  of 
the  brightest  jewels  in  his  crown.  Such  was  Mar- 
garet Mercer:  proud  as  the  family  might  well  be 
of  the  name  they  bore,  she  added  its  holiest  lustre. 
"Her  character,"  says  her  biographer,  Dr.  Caspar 
Morris,  in  his  excellent  memoir  of  this  noble 
woman,  "comprised  elements  apparently  very  di- 
verse, and  yet  all  combined  into  a  perfect  whole, 
as  the  varied  colors  of  a  ray  of  light.  Gentle,  and 
full  of  atl'vtion  for  all,  and  ready  t<>  sympathize 
with  sorrow  wherever  met  with;  feelings,  the 
ncc  of  which  will  be  found  scattered  every- 
where around  these  traces  of  her  path  through 
she  yet  possessed  an  energy  and  firmness 
rarely  found  in  this  connection." 

If  we  reflect  further  on  the  subject,  remembering 
how  few  girls  are  trained  as  Margaret  Mercer  was 
— her  mental  powers  developed,  and  directed  to 
guide  and  strengthen  rightly  those  delicate  montf 
sensibilities  and  tender  affections  peculiar  to  her 
sex— one  reason  of  her  superiority  becomes  appar- 
ent. 

After  giving  a  sketch  of  her  studies  in  botany, 
and  love  of  gardening,  etc.,  Dr.  Morris  -ays  ; 

"  But  it  was  not  upon  these  sportive  fancies 
alone  that  her  mind  exerted  its  powers.  Graver 


96  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

subjects  occupied  her  attention,  and  performed 
their  part  in  giving  increased  vigor  to  her  reason- 
ing faculties,  whilst  the  others  were  adding  to  the 
already-abounding  stores  of  her  fertile  imagina- 
tion." She  had  access  to  a  choice  collection  of 
works  on  history  and  general  literature  :  these 
were  her  familiar  companions,  and  her  mind  was 
thoroughly  stored  with  their  contents :  whilst  we 
find  her  at  one  time  deep  in  mathematics,  allowing 
herself  but  too  little  rest,  that  she  might  bring  her 
mind  under  the  wholesome  discipline  of  this  parent 
of  careful  thought;  at  another,  theological  discus- 
sions asserted  strong  empire  over  her  mind,  and  in 
order  to  drink,  as  she  supposed,  more  purely  from 
the  fountain  itself,  with  less  intervention  of  human 
teaching,  she  devoted  herself  with  almost  undivided 
attention  to  the  study  of  Hebrew.  A  short  time 
afterward,  we  find  her  carefully  threading  the  in- 
tricate mysteries  of  medical  science,  that  by  the 
acquisition  of  a  correct  knowledge  of  the  nature  of 
diseases  and  their  remedies,  she  might  enlarge  the 
sphere  of  her  benevolent  usefulness.  The  deep 
abstractions  of  metaphysics  did  not  deter  her  from 
trying  to  fathom  those  abysses  into  which  the  mind 
plunges  its  line  in  vain,  growing  old  in  drawing  up 
no  certain  token  of  reaching  the  solid  foundation 
over  which  its  deep  waters  roll  so  proudly.  She 
remarks  to  a  friend :  "  I  do  not  come  on  very  Avell 
with  metaphysics ;  I  dislike  any  thing  so  inconclu- 
sive, and  should  be  tired  of  following  an  angel,  if 
he  talked  so  in  a  ring."  A  paper  of  "Thoughts 


MARGARET   MKRCER.  97 

on  the  Magnet "  proves  her  to  have  given  attention 

.tural  philosophy,  and  at  an  early  period  to 
h:i\»-  wrestled  with  some  of  those  mysterious 
truths  which  are  now  but  dawning  upon  the 
horizon  of  human  knowledge.  But  whilst  on  all 
these  subjects  she  could  express  herself  with  ease 
and  eloquence,  there  was  a  simplicity  and  delicacy 
ulimit  her  character  which  separated  her  as  widely 
as  can  be  conceived  from  that  class  of  "  women  of 
masculine  understanding,"  whose  assumption  of 
claims  to  superiority  over  their  own  sex  lead-; 
them  t«>  de-pise  the  refinements  and  delicacy  which 
communicate  an  appropriate  and  attractive  grace 
to  the  female  character.  These  can  never  be  laid 
aside  without  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and 
a  consequent  shock  to  that  unity  of  action  which 
coii-titutes  the  beauty  of  the  works  of  Him  who 
to  each  an  appropriate  part  in  the  sublime 
hrrmonyof  that  universe  which  attests  His  wisdom 
and  power.  Never  was  feminine  grace  more  beau- 
tifully illustrated  than  in  her  whole  career.  Sho 

r  forgot  that  it  is  the  peculiar  province  of 
wti:ii:m  to  minister  to  the  comfort,  and  promote 
the  happiness,  lirst,  of  those  most  nearly  allied  t<> 
her,  and  then  of  those  who,  by  the  providence  of 
God,  are  placed  in  a  state  of  dependence  upon  her. 
To  discharge  these  duties  was  her  unceasing  ob- 

.  to  the  accomplishment  of  which  she  devoted 

ith  entire  singleness  of  purpose.     Tims 

f}\>'  writes  to  a  friend:  "I,  like  every  little  mole 

toiling  in  his  own  dark  passage,  have  been  given  to 

7 


98  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

murmuring,  and  my  great  complaint  for  some  time 
past  has  been,  that  I  was  cut  off  from  every  means 
of  usefulness,  and  could  not  find  any  thing  on 
earth  to  do  that  might  not  as  well  remain  undone ; 
and  while  I  am  fretting  at  having  nothing  to  do, 
you  find  equal  discomfort  in  having  too  much. 
Somebody,  no  matter  who,  has  said  the  secret  of 
happiness  was,  that  the  busy  find  leisure,  and  the 
idle  find  business,  and  it  would  seem  so  between 
us.  And  yet  I  doubt  whether  happiness  is  not  a 
principle  which  belongs  exclusively  to  God,  and 
whether  we  can  ever  be  satisfied  till  we  wake  up 
in  His  likeness.  Whenever  you  can  find  that  spot, 
sacred  to  religious  peace  and  true  friendship,  send 
for  me  to  your  paradise ;  but  remember  this  is  the 
reward  promised  to  those  who  have  gone  through 
the  struggle  of  our  great  spiritual  warfare." 

At  this  time  her  pencil,  her  pen,  and  her  needle, 
were  all  put  in  requisition  in  aid  of  the  Greeks,  in 
their  struggle  for  h'berty. 

When  Margaret  Mercer  was  about  two-and- 
twenty,  she  made  a  public  profession  of  religion ; 
in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  she  thus  commemorates  this 
important  event : 

"  I  was  confirmed,  and  had  the  pious  blessing  of 
our  venerable  old  bishop,  the  day  before  I  came 
from  home.  You  cannot  think  how  humble,  how 
penitent,  how  happy  I  feel.  It  seems  as  though  I 
still  feel  the  pressure  of  his  hand  on  my  head.  He 

has  promised  to  come  to  see  me  next  spring 

I  do  not  think  I  was  ever  made  for  a  married  wo- 


MARGARET   MERCER.  99 

man ;  I  feel  as  if  I  was  not  intended  to  take  so 
great  a  >hare  in  worldly  things.  If  I  did,  I  should 
forget  my  God,  perhaps  ;  and  may  Providence  load 
me  with  every  human  misery,  and  deprive  me  of 
earthly  good,  rather  than  that." 

And  now  tli:it  her  line  talents  had  been  cultivated 
by  a  liberal  education  and  an  extensive  course  of 
reading,  and  her  naturally  amiable  disposition 
warmed  and  purified  by  true  piety,  she  was  ready 
for  her  work.  Yet  who  that  then  looked  upon  her 
would  have  dreamed  what  that  work  was  to  be! 
Her  biographer  thus  describes  her  at  this  period: 

"  In  personal  appearance,  Miss  Mercer  was  pecu- 
liarly attractive;  her  stature  was  originally  tall,  her 
carriage  graceful,  her  eye  beaming,  with  intelli- 
gence, and  her  whole  countenance  expressive  of 
the  loveliest  traits  of  female  character.  Disease 
and  care  set  their  marks  upon  her  face  in  after-life, 
and  caused  her  form  to  lose  its  symmetry,  but 
ne\er  quenched  the  beaming  of  the  eye,  nor  dark- 
ihe  radiance  of  her  soul,  which  shone  on  every 
feature  to  the  very  last.''  There  was  a  combination 
of  attraetive  grace  with  the  impressiveness  of  su- 
r  power,  which  is  rarely  met  with;  and  while 
her  manner  \\  as  often  sportive,  and  she  could  adorn 
tin:  mo-t  common  subjects  of  conversation  by 
happy  turns  of  thought  ami  purity  of  language, 
tli'-re  was  freijiiontly  an  elevation  of  thought,  and 
of  expression,  which  carried  those  thrown 
into  association  with  her  into  a  higher  sphere  than 
that  of  common  everyday  cxi.-tciico.  Even  those 


100  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

who  could  not  sympathize  with,  and  appreciate  hei 
character,  were  still  struck  with  this  feature  in  it. 

This  is  the  true  moral  influence  which  woman, 
when  her  education  is  properly  conducted,  and  her 
position  rightly  understood,  will  exercise  over  men, 
over  society.  That  this  moral  power  was  held  by 
woman,  Miss  Mercer  felt  to  be  true ;  and  hence 
arose  her  distaste  for  the  "  chatter "  of  the  vain, 
frivolous,  accomplished  young  ladies,  whom  she 
met  in  society.  Thus  she  writes  of  her  visit  at 
Washington : — 

"  I  acknowledge  that  there  are  many  persons 
around  me  vastly  better  than  I  am ;  but  I  am 
speaking  of  society,  not  people  ;  and  I  confess  that 
the  '  unidea-ed  chatter  of  females '  is  past  my  endur- 
ance ;  they  are  very  capable  of  better  things,  but 
what  of  that  ?  Is  it  not  yet  more  annoying,  that 
they  will  do  nothing  better  ?  And  besides  all  this, 
I  have  more  painful  feelings  of  embarrassment  in 
company  than  I  had  at  sixteen.  I  am  old,  too ; 
and,  when  I  go  into  gay  scenes,  the  illusion  is  gone, 
and  I  fancy  the  illuminated  hall  to  resemble  the 
castle  of  enchantment,  where  Armida  kept  all  who 
were  capable  of  virtue  bound  in  the  lap  of  pleasure. 
I  think  how  a  M.  Fellenberg  has  devoted  a  noble 
spirit  to  a  grand  system  of  education,  and  given 
them  the  model.  All  admire,  all  talk  of  it,  and  no 
one  on  the  wide  globe  follows  the  example.  Mrs. 
Fry  opens  the  prison-gates — looses  the  bonds  of 
the  captive — carries  healing  into  broken  hearts,  or 
plants  virtue  where  vice  was  the  only  growth— 


MARGARET   MERCER.  101 

what  arc  all  these  chattering  women  about,  that 
tin  v  cannot  \vear  a  simple  garb,  and  follow  her  to 
jails  and  hospitals  and  poor-houses?  No — if  I 
cannot  do  good  where  there  is  so  much  to  do,  I 
was  and  never  will  be  a  votary  of  folly." 

She  was  now  engaged  in  founding  .1  Sunday- 
school.  Writing  to  a  friend,  she  says :  "  When 
my  head  turns  to  this  subject,  it  seems  to  me  I 
want  forty  heads,  well-stored  with  strong  sense; 
forty  frames  supported  by  vigorous  strength  and 
health;  and  a  hundred  hands  as  organs  of  execu- 
tion for  the  plans  and  projects  of  my  head." 

Miss  Mercer  was  to  have  a  wider  sphere  for  the 
office  of  teacher,  which  seemed  her  peculiar  mis 
sion.  Her  mother  died  when  Margaret  was  young. 
Her  father's  death,  which  took  place  at  Philadel- 
]>lii:u,  whither  she  had  accompanied  him  for  his 
health,  proved  the  cri>is  of  her  life.  She  had  been 
accustomed  to  all  the  indulgences  love  and  wealth 
can  bestow.  From  this  time,  she  was  to  prove 
what  those  endure  who  have  their  only  faith  in  God 
and  their  own  energies  on  which  to  rely.  Much 
of  her  property  consisted  in  slaves — these  she  liber- 
ated, provided  for,  and  sent  to  Liberia.  Thus  Dr. 
Morris  gives  the  summary : — 

"This  emancipation  of  her  slaves  was  one  of  a 
chain  of  acts  inseparably  linked  together,  by  which 
she  reduced  herself  from  affluence  to  absolute  de- 
pendence on  her  own  exertions  for  maintenance ; 
and  that  not  ignorantly  and  gradually,  but  instantly, 
and  with  full  knowledge  of  the  inevitable  result. 


102  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

She  therefore  apologizes  to  Mr.  Gurley  for  doing 
so  little  for  them,  and  remarks :  '  Should  any  think 
I  have  not  done  my  part  by  these  poor  creatures, 
I  can  but  bear  the  blame  silently.  A  formal  re- 
monstrance against  my  making  such  a  disposition 

of  my  property  has  been  addressed  to  me  by 

and  .  But  I  have  determined  to  abide  the 

consequences.'  These  consequences  were  anxiety, 
toil,  and  poverty,  endured  without  a  murmur  or 
regret,  during  twenty-five  years  of  life  enfeebled  by 
disease." 

And  now  she  was  to  begin  the  world ;  she  chose 
the  arduous  post  of  teacher  in  a  school  for  young 
girls  in  Virginia;  but  her  plans  of  charity  were  not 
given  up.  Thus  she  writes  to  a  friend : — 

"  I  have  been  desiring  a  day  or  two  of  repose 
that  I  might  devote  to  you  and  your  dearest  mo- 
ther. But,  indeed,  you  have  very  little  idea  of  the 
life  I  lead.  Saturday  is  as  laboriously  spent  in 
working  for  the  Liberian  Society,  as  any  other  day 
in  the  week ;  and  on  Sunday  we  have  a  Sunday- 
school,  in  which  I  have  my  part,  and  so  make  out 
•to  .employ  every  day  fully.  Drawing  keeps  me  on 
my  feet  for  six  hours  every  other  day ;  and  at  first 
it  was  truly  bewildering  to  teach  twenty-three 
children  who  did  not  know  how  to  make  a  straight 
line.  You  ace  anxious  to  know  all  about  me,  and 
you  see  I  am  free  in  my  communication ;  there  are 
many  encouraging  circumstances  in  the  mode  of 
life  I  have  adopted ;  for  those  very  things  that  are 
most  painful,  prove  how  much  there  is  to  do  /  and 


MA  KG  A  RET   MERCK  K.  103 

where  there  is  much  to  do,  steady  laborious  efforts 
to  do  good  will  doubtless  bo  blessed,  although  we 
may  in  mercy  be  denied  the  luxury  of  seeing  our 
work  under  the  sun  prosper.  Mrs.  G.  is  sometimes 
much  dispirited,  at  times  without  cause;  for 
every  little  painful  occurrence  of  misconduct  in  the 
children  affords  opportunity  of  more  strenuously 
enforcing  good  principles.  I  never  knew  how  to 
be  thankful  to  my  parents,  above  all  to  my  God, 
for  a  good  education,  until  I  came  to  look  into  the 
state  of  young  ladies  generally." 

The  desire  to  be  made  instrumental  in  training 
souls  for  eternity  was  the  ruling  motive  by  which 
sin-  was  influenced;  and,  from  the  very  first,  her 
chief  efforts  were  devoted  to  this  great  end,  which 
was  pursued  without  deviation  throughout  her 
whole  career,  though  by  no  means  to  the  neglect 
of  those  subsidiary  acquirements  which  she.  es- 
teemed as  highly  as  any  one  could  do,  and  labored 
most  unremittingly  to  communicate  to  her  pupils. 

Sin?  continued  in  this,  her  chosen  profession,  for 
about  twenty-live  years  ;  established  a  school  of  her 
own;  and  her  example  and  influence  have  had  a 
moxt  salutary  and  wide-spread  effect  on  the  com- 
munity where  she  resided.  This  admirable  woman 
in  the  autumn  of  1840,  aged  fifty-live  years. 
Sin-  prepared  two  works  for  her  pupils, "  Studies  for 
Bible  Classes,"  and  a  volume  entitled  "Ethics;"  in 
>rm  of  lectures  to  young  ladies,  which  she  em- 
ployed as  a  text-book  in  teaching  moral  philosophy. 
It  i>  admirably  adapted  to  its  purpose,  conveying 


104  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

in  chaste,  yet  glowing  language,  the  feelings  of  a 
sanctified  heart.  Adopting  the  word  of  God  as  the 
only  source  of  knowledge,  as  well  as  of  the  prac- 
tical duties  of  life,  she  endeavors  to  explain  and 
enforce  the  principles  there  laid  down  for  the  for- 
mation of  character,  and  the  government  of  life.  It 
is  a  work  well  worthy  of  the  study  of  every  woman 
who  desires  to  attain  to  a  high  degree  of  moral 
worth.  We  give  one  extract : — 

CONVEESATION. 

"  If  you  are  conscious  that  the  sin  of  idle  talking 
prevails  among  you ;  if  you  are  sensible  of  so  of- 
fending individually ;  or,  if  the  sad  effect  of  this 
low,  disgraceful,  and  corrupting  vice  disturbs  the 
peace  and  serenity  of  your  little  circle,  let  me  en- 
treat you  as  the  most  certain  corrective  of  the  evil, 
to  form  some  common  plan  for  promoting  the  per- 
fection and  happiness  of  your  fellow-creatures. 
Imbue  your  hearts  with  the  spirit  of  active  charity, 
and  the  gossip  of  the  worldly-minded  wiU,  indeed, 
sound  on  your  ears  like  idle  words.  No  conversa- 
tion will  then  appear  to  you  worthy  of  notice,  bvit 
such  as  has  some  evident  bearing  upon  the  improve- 
,ment  or  happiness  of  the  human  race.  "When  this 
•:ha«  once  become  the  main  object  of  your  hopes, 
your  fears,  your  labors,  and  your  prayers,  it  will  be- 
come the  most  interesting  subject  of  your  thoughts, 
and  the  favorite  theme  of  your  conversations. 
Imagine  Mr.  Howard,  or  Mrs.  Fry,  to  return  home 
at  evening,  with  souls  filled  with  images  of  the 


MAK'iAKl.T    Ml  i:CKK.  105 

poor  pri-oners  they  h:i«l  vi-ited,  handcuffed  and 
chaiiud,  lying  upon  a  pile  ot'tilthy  straw,  perishing 
with  cold  ami  hunger;  or,  worse,  in  the  horrid 
In  ullage  of  MII,  blaspheming,  drinking,  and  fighting 
in  their  snbterrene  hole.  Do  you  think  they  would 
be  agreeably  amused,  it',  when  their  efforts  were 
directed  to  "  stir  up  the  pure  minds  fervently,"  of 
the  young  around  them,  to  aid  in  their  noble  labors, 
they  were  called  upon  to  join  in  the  childish  prattle 
of  girls  discussing  the  ribbands  on  their  hair,  or 
the  riiiLT-  <>n  their  fingers;  or,  in  the  equally  con- 
temptible jargon  of  young  men  of  fashion,  of  their 
hat-rims,  or  coat-capes,  or  shoe-tics,  or,  still  worse, 
the  cruel,  wicked  custom  usual  with  both  sexes,  of 

•ting  characters,  and  speaking  evil  of  othors, 
merely  to  excite  some  interest  in  their  vapid  con- 

tion?  Conversation  is  to  works  what  the 
flower  is  (<>  tin- fruit.  A  godly  conversat  ion  shelters 
and  cherishes  the  new-born  spirit  of  virtue,  as  the 
flower  does  the  fruit  from  the  cold,  chi'.l  atmos- 
phere, of  a  heartless  world;  and  the  I eauty  of 
holiness  expanding  in  conversation,  giv-s  rational 
anticipation  of  noble-minded  principU-s  ripening 
into  the  richest  fruits  of  good  works.  You  know 
the  tree  as  well  by  the  flower  as  the  fruit,  and 
m-vcr  inc. I  you  hope  to  see  the  lig  follow  the 
thistle  tlouer,  or  grapes  the  wild  bloom  of  the 
thorn-tree.  Honor  God,  thru,  with  youi  bodies 
and  spirits,  in  your  lives  and  conversation*;  show 
forth  holiness  out  of  a  good  conversation;  for  the 
king's  daughter  is  all  ylurious  ir ///<///." 


106  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 


THE  TEACHEft  IN  THE  WILDS. 

SARAH  BOARDMAN  JUDSON. 

IN  the  merchants'  windows,  at  the  corners  of  streets, 
and  amongst  the  other  multifarious  announcements 
of  our  busy  days,  people  may  from  time  to  time 
perceive  little  handbill  intimations  anent  meetings, 
at  which  some  devoted  one  is  to  be  set  apart  to 
labor  amongst  the  far-oif  heathens.  These  notices 
produce  little  or  no  effect  upon  the  world  general- 
ly ;  but  to  the  Christian  churches  they  are  usually 
of  the  most  lively  interest.  They  illustrate  the  chiv- 
alry of  the  church,  if  we  may  so  speak ;  they  ex- 
hibit the  Christian  heroism  of  our  age,  and  present 
a  lovely  moral  and  religious  contrast  to  the  de- 
structive heroism  of  the  world.  It  is  easy  to 
become  a  warrior ;  the  poor  neglected  immortals, 
whose  ferocity  has  alone  been  trained,  have  gained 
the  reputation  of  dauntless  heroism.  The  applause 
of  the  world  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  incite  any  man 
to  rush  into  the  deadly  rift  of  battle,  but  the  cour- 
age requisite  for  a  missionary  appears  to  us  to  be 
of  the  most  sublime  and  noble  kind.  No  world's 
applause  could  sustain  a  man  or  woman,  full  of 


SARAH   BOARDMAN    JL'DSON.  107 

hcart-afteetion  for  friends  and  home,  amidst  the 
dreary  desulate  wastes  of  heathen  lands  during  a 
lite-time.  Nothing  but  the  religious  sense  of  duty, 
and  the  applause  of  a  pure  conscience,  could  so 
elevate  and  sustain  the  soul  amongst  weary  labors 
and  pestilential  airs.  When  we  look  at  courage 
through  the  true  medium,  how  immeasurably  supe- 
rior to  the  ferocious  passions  of  a  Caesar  or  a 
Napoleon  do  the  faithful  souls  of  a  Williams, 
l{«.l.»Tt>,  and  Waddel,  appear.  The  book  of  his- 
tory is  full  of  the  fame  of  the  former,  and  their 
monuments  are  on  almost  every  chimney-piece* 
the  latter  are  only  known  to  the  Christian  world 
of  Great  Britain  and  America,  the  angels,  and  the 
heathen ;  but  their  place  of  remembrance  shall  be 
heaven. 

The  mi— innary  field,  however,  is  not  exclusively 
reserved  for  the  strong  and  faithful  and  forward 
man.  As  Christianity  is  woman's  bond  of  eqnality 
with  man,  s<>  is  tlu-  vineyard  of  Christ  equally  her 
place  of  labor,  and  she  also  goes  forth  in  the  faith 
that  maketh  strong,  to  do  the  will  of  Him  who 
sends  her. 

I'.-rhaps  it  might  appear  invidious  to  sketch  the 
life  of  any  one  of  those  amiable  heroines  of  the 
cross,  when  the  lives  of  all  are  so  full  of  true 
courage  and  faith ;  but  as,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
life  of  one,  save  in  its  incidents,  may  be  looked 
upon  :us  a  parallel  to  that  of  all  others,  it  is  both 
-sary  and  profitable  to  particularize. 

Sarah  Boardman  Judson  was  born  in  1603,  at 


108  WOMEN   OF  WORTH. 

Alstead,  in  the  state  of  N"ew  Hampshire,  and  sub- 
sequently removed  with  her  parents,  Ralph  and 
Abiah  Hall,  to  Danvers,  and  then  to  Salem,  in  the 
state  of  Massachusetts.  Sarah  was  the  eldest  of 
five  children ;  and,  as  her  parents  were  of  the  in- 
dustrious class,  she  was  constrained,  like  the  ma- 
jority of  poor  men's  eldest  daughters,  to  devote 
herself  more  to  the  care  of  her  younger  brothers 
and  sisters  than  to  the  regular  cultivation  of  her 
own  mind.  There  are  some  minds  that  would 
never  grow  strong  unless  they  had  something  to 
struggle  against.  The  latent  courage  of  the  noblest 
souls  is  only  aroused  and  developed  by  those  op- 
posing forces  that  seem  any  thing  but  blessings. 
Mysterious  are  the  ways  of  Providence,  however, 
and  finite  and  partial  the  judgments  of  men.  We 
know  not  how  the  circumstances  of  life  may  oper- 
ate toward  the  soul — God  knows.  Deprived  of 
the  power  of  attending  school,  Sarah  Hall  was 
thrown  upon  herself.  She  had  no  teacher  save  ex- 
perience, no  guide  in  her  lessons  save  her  books, 
and  to  these  she  applied  herself  with  heroic  dili- 
gence. Care  produced  thus  early  hi  Sarah  Hall 
that  thoughtfulness  and  patience  which,  when  ma- 
tured, so  beautifully  adorn  the  Christian  character, 
and  her  self-education  was  just  the  path  to  riper 
self-reliance.  She  early  began  to  observe  and  think, 
and  to  write  down  her  thoughts  in  a  little  day- 
book ;  and  then  in  the  form  of  poetry,  when  her 
ideas  became  more  expanded  and  matured.  At 
seventeen  years  of  age,  Sarah  Hall  had  devoted 


SARAH    BOARDMAN   JUD80N.  10U 

herself  to  the  business  of  instructing  others,  in 
order  that  she  might  obtain  the  means  of  educat- 
ing herself.  During  the  day  she  taught,  and  at 
night  slu-  devoted  her  mind  to  the  acquisition  of 
logic,  geometry,  and  Latin,  etc. — a  course  of  severe 
procedure  that  none  but  those  who  have  pursued 
it  can  properly  estimate.  The  baptism  of  Sarah 
Hall  seems  to  have  awakened  in  her  the  whole 
force  of  her  inward  life ;  and  her  meditations  and 
aspirations  seem,  shortly  after  this  event,  to  have 
been  toward  the  path  of  a  missionary.  "I  am 
privileged  to  worship  the  true  God,"  she  would 
say,  "but,  alas!  for  the  poor  perishing  heathen 
who  has  never  known  Him."  There  is  something 
so  admirable  in  the  spirit  of  these  musings  and  ex- 
pressions that,  apart  from  their  religious  character, 
they  are  sutlicieiit  to  claim  the  respect  of  e\<Tv 
generous  heart.  A  sense  of  ble^ings  and  privi- 
I'-LTCS,  :md  a  strong  desire  to  impart  them  to  others, 
d'-pite  of  toil,  and  uncertainty,  and  distance,  and 
disease,  are  the  glorious  principles  which  animate 
those  who  bear  the  cross  to  distant  lands.  How 
unlike  the  vain-glorious  spirit  of  those  who  go 
forth  to  slay!  As  time  wore  onward  Sarah  Hall's 
name  began  to  be  heard  in  the  literary  world,  and 
many  looki-d  upon  her  as  a  rising  poetess,  when 
she  married  the  Rev.  George  Dana  Boardman  on 
the  4th  of  July,  1825,  and  the  saint-  month  pro- 
ci-eded  with  him  to  join  the  American  missionaries 
ntly  settled  at  Burmah,  in  the  East  Indies.  It 
was  here  that  the  most  interesting  and  eventful 


110  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

part  of  Sarah's  life  began.  It  was  here  that  all  her 
self-reliance  and  courage  were  called  into  requisi- 
tion. Mr.  Boardman  and  his  wife  settled  at  a 
station  called  Amherst,  in  order  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  key  to  the  heart  of  the  heathen, 
which  is  his  language.  Dr.  Judson  and  his  family 
resided  here,  and  assisted  hi  the  studies  of  the  new 
comers,  as  well  as  in  encouraging  them  in  their 
labors. 

Burmah  was  at  this  time  in  a  most  unfavorable 
condition  for  receiving  from  white  men  the  religion 
of  peace,  for  war  and  force  were  the  first  instru- 
ments which  the  whites  had  exercised  toward  the 
Burmese  in  visiting  their  country,  and  they  had 
little  confidence  in  any  peaceful  attempt  that  was 
made  for  their  good.  After  studying  for  some  time 
at  Amherst,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boardman  removed  to 
Maulmain,  to  a  lonely  and  dangerous  mission- 
house.  The  spot  where  it  stood  was  a  mile  beyond 
the  cantonments,  close  beside  the  thick  jungle, 
where,  during  the  night,  the  wild  beasts  made  dis- 
mal howlings.  Behind  the  station  rose  a  fine  range 
of  hills,  whose  solitary  aspect  was  relieved  by  the 
gilded  masonry  of  handsome  pagodas,  and  before 
rolled  the  broad  deep  river,  where  rode  an  English 
sloop  of  war,  and  where  danced  the  boats  of  the 
natives.  Just  across  the  river  was  the  Burman 
province  of  Martaban,  whose  terrible  freebooters 
issued  from  their  fastnesses  during  the  night,  armed 
with  knives,  spears,  and  sometimes  muskets,  driv- 
ing away  or  slaying  the  peaceful  inhabitants,  while 


SARAH  BOA  RDM  AX  JUDSON.       Ill 

they  seized  upon  the  produce  of  their  toil.  The 
English  general  suggested  to  Mr.  IJoardman  the 
•  >f  having  an  armed  guard ;  but  this  would 
have  totally  deprived  the  missionary  of  gaining  the 
confidence  of  the  people,  and  it  was  declined.  It 
was  to  study  the  language,  habits,  and  character 
of  the  natives  that  he  had  gone  thither,  and  not  as 
a  conqueror.  About  a  month  after  her  settlement 
at  Maulmaiii,  Mrs.  Boardman  wrote  to  a  friend: 
"  We  are  in  excellent  health,  and  as  happy  as  it  is 
possible  lor  human  beings  to  be  upon  earth.  It  is 
our  earnest  desire  to  live,  and  labor,  and  die,  among 
this  people."  The  life  of  a  missionary  is  not  one 
of  ease  and  safety,  as  the  following  thrilling  in- 
cident in  the  life  of  young  Sarah  JJoardman  will 
show.  About  the  middle  of  June,  as  the  meridian 
sun  came  down  from  its  altitude,  men  in  loose -gar- 
ments of  gaily-plaided  doth,  and  with  their  long 
black  hair  wound  about  their  heads,  and  confined 
by  folds  of  muslin,  looked  curiously  in  at  the  door 
of  the  strange  foreigner  ;  and  then  encouraged  by 
some  kind  word  or  <rl:mce,  or  the  spreading  of  a 
mat,  M-atcd  themselves  in  their  own  fashion,  talked 
a  little  while  with  their  host,  though  often,  from 
misapprehension  of  each  others  meaning,  at  cross 
] mr poses,  and  went  away,  leaving  him  to  his  books 
and  teacher.  Women  and  children  gathered  more 
timidly,  but  with  curiosity  even  less  disguised, 
about  the  Kulnltma-pyoo  (white  foreigners),  won- 
dering at  her  strange  costume,  the  fairne-s  of  her 
skin,  ami  the  superiority  displayed  in  her  bearing; 


112  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

and  some  of  the  bolder  of  them  venturing  to  touch 
her  hand,  or  to  pass  their  tawny  taper  fingers  from 
the  covered  instep  to  the  toe  of  the  neatly-formed 
slipper,  so  unlike  their  own  clumsy  sandals.  But 
who,  among  all  these  came  to  inquire  of  Jesus 
Christ,  or  learn  the  way  to  heaven  ?  Most  em- 
phatically could  they  say :  "  We  have  not  so  much 
as  heard  if  there  be  a  God."  On  the  evening  of 
the  fourth  day,  as  it  deepened  into  night,  the  books 
of  study  were  thrown  aside,  and  the  book  of  God 
taken  in  their  stead ;  then  the  prayer  was  raised 
to  heaven,  and  the  little  family  went  to  rest.  Fee- 
ble were  the  rays  of  the  one  pale  lamp,  close  by 
the  pillow  of  the  young  mother,  scarce  throwing 
its  light  upon  the  infant  resting  on  her  bosom,  and 
penetrating  into  the  remote  darkness  but  by  feeble 
flickerings.  So  sleep  soon  brooded  over  the  shut 
eyelids,  and  silence  folded  its  solemn  wings  about 
the  little  habitation.  The  infant  stirred,  and  the 
mother  opened  her  eyes.  Why  was  she  in  dark- 
ness ?  and  what  objects  were  those  scattered  so 
strangely  about  her  apartment,  just  distinguishable 
from  the  gray  shadows  ?  The  lamp  was  soon  re- 
lighted, and  startling  was  the  scene  Avhich  it  re- 
vealed. There  lay  in  odd  confusion,  trunks,  boxes, 
and  chests  of  drawers,  all  rifled  of  their  contents ; 
and  strewed  carelessly  about  the  floor,  were  such 
articles  as  the  marauders  had  not  considered  worth 
their  taking.  While  regarding  in  consternation, 
not  appreciable  by  those  who  have  access  to  the 
shops  of  an  American  city,  this  spoiling  of  their 


SARAH   JIIDSOX    AND   THK    lirRMESE    FRKKItOoTKl:-;. 

"The  rounded  limbs  of  the  little  infant  lay  motionless  as  their  marble  counterfeit;  for  if  their  rosy 

lips  tad  moved  but  to  the  sl^htest  murmur,  or  the  tiny  hand  crept  closer  to  the  loved  bosom  in  her 

baby  dream,  the  chord  in  the   mother's  breast  must  have    answered,  and  the  death-stroke  followed. 

Murderers  stood  by  the  bedsid.-,  regarding  the  tableau,  and   the  husband  and  father 

SLEPT." — PAGE  113. 


SARAH    BOARDMAN   JUDSON.  113 

good-,  "M   <.  r..>ardman  chanced  to  raise  her  iv 
the  curtain  beneath  wh'n-h  her  husband   had  slept, 
and  she  thought  of  her  lost  goods  no  more.     Two 
j.i-hrs,  one  at  the  la-ad  and  the  other  at  the 
foot,  had  been  cut  in  the  muslin ;  anil  there  had 
the  desperate  villains  stood,  glaring  on  the  uncon- 
m  sleeper  with  their  fierce,  murderous  eyes, 
while  the  booty  was  secured  by  their  companions. 
The  bared,  swarthy  arm  was  ready  for  the  blow, 
and  the  sharp  knife,  or  pointed  spear,  glittered  in 
their  hands.     Had  the  sleeper  opened  his  eyes,  had 
he  only  stirred,  had  but  .1  heavy,  long-drawn  breath 
startled  the  cowardice  of  guilt — ah,  had  it !     I>nt 
it  did  not.     The  rounded  limbs  of  the  little  infant 
lay  motionless  as  their  marble  counterfeit;  for  if 
their  n»y  lip^  had  moved  but  to  the  slightest  mur- 
mur, or  the  tiny  hand  crept  closer  to  the  loved 
bosom  in  her  baby  divams,  the  chord  in  th-   ^oth- 
er's breast  must  have  answered,   and    :'• 
stroke  followed.     lint  the  mother  held  h- 
to  her  heart,  and  slept  on.     Murderers 
the  bed-ide,  regarding  with  callous  heart 
tiful   tableau;  and    the    husband    and    lather 
But  then-  was  one  eye  open— the  eye  that   ; 
slumbers — a  protecting  wing  was  over  them,  and 
a  soft  imUible  hand  pn-;sed  down  their  sleeping 

lids.  Nearly  every  article  of  value  that  could  be 
taken  away  had  di-apperuvd  from  the  hou-e ;  and 
though  strict  search  was  made  throughout  the 
neighborhood,  no  trace  of  them  was  ever  disc«>\- 

ered. 

I 


114-  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

It  was  at  Tavoy,  however,  that  the  real  labors 
of  the  Boarclmans  began,  and  here  they  had  to 
struggle  with  the  utmost  difficulties.  Both  had 
suffered  in  their  health,  and  both  were  called  upon 
to  exert  themselves  to  the  utmost  in  the  acquire- 
ment of  the  dialect  of  the  people,  and  in  the  pur- 
suit of  plans  for  their  instruction.  The  missionaries 
had  not  only  to  contend  with  the  climate,  failing 
strength,  and  the  other  accidents  of  their  position, 
but  they  had  also  to  share  the  dangers  and  trials 
incidental  to  those  states  which  forcibly  base  them- 
selves upon  the  subjugation  of  their  neighbors. 

In  August,  1827,  at  the  dead  of  night,  the 
natives  of  Tavoy  revolted  against  the  British,  and 
drove  the  commandant  of  the  whites  and  a  hundred 
sepoys  into  a  blockhouse  on  the  quay.  Here  the 
Europeans  maintained  themselves  until  the  arrival 
of  Colonel  Burney,  when  the  revolt  was  suppress- 
ed; but  the  fatigue,  agitation,  and  exposure,  accel- 
erated the  decline  of  Mr.  Boardman's  already  failing 
health,  and  hurried  him  on  to  that  grave  which  he 
found  on  Burmah's  distant  shore.  And  now  Mrs. 
Boardman  was  left  alone  with  her  only  child, 
George.  And  now  came  the  inquiry  from  Sarah's 
widowed  heart,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?"  She  wrote 
to  America,  to  Maulmain,  to  Rangoon,  and  Am- 
herst  for  advice,  and  prayed  to  be  directed  in  the 
way  that  she  should  go.  Her  spirit  inclined  her, 
however,  to  remain  iu  her  appointed  sphere,  and 
she  did  remain.  "  When  I  first  stood  by  the  grave 
of  my  husband,  I  thought  I  must  go  home  with 


SARAH   BOAKDMAN   JODSON.  115 

George.  But  these  poor,  inquiring,  and  Christum 
Karens,  and  the  schoolboys,  and  the  Burmese 
Christians,  would  then  be  left  without  any  one  to 
instruct  them;  ami  the  poor,  stupid  Tavoyans 
would  go  on  in  the  road  to  death,  with  no  one  to 
warn  them  of  their  danger.  How  then,  oh,  how 
can  I  go?  We  shall  not  be  separated  long.  A 
few  more  years,  and  we  shall  all  meet  in  yonder 
blissful  world,  whither  those  we  love  have  gone 
before  us.  I  feel  thankful  that  I  was  allowed  to 
come  to  this  heathen  land.  Oh,  it  is  a  precious 
privilege  to  tell  idolaters  of  the  gospel ;  and  when 
we  see  them  disposed  to  love  the  Saviour,  we 
forget  all  our  privations  and  dangers.  My  beloved 
husband  wore  out  his  lite  in  this  glorious  cause; 
an«l  that  remembrance  makes  me  more  than  ever 
attached  to  the  work,  and  the  people  for  whose™ 
salvation  he  labored  till  death." 

Mrs.  Boardman  now  devoted  herself  with  all 
the  energy  of  her  soul  to  the  instruction  of  those 
so  much  ca-t  upon  her  by  the  death  of  her  hus- 
band, ai»d  moved  about  from  place  to  place,  en- 
couuterinir  much  danger  and  enduring  much  fatigue 
in  her  apo-tolic  minimi.  She  went  into  the  jungle 
amongst  the  simple  Karens  and  established  schools, 
with  the  super\i-ion  of  which  she  taxed  herself. 
Tlu-e  .lay-schools  attracted  the  notice  of  the  agents 
of  the  British  government,  and  they  were  allow- 
anced by  the  same,  although  (littering,  somewhat 
in  constitution  from  the  formula  prescribed  in  the 
India  Company's  circular.  She  soon  became 


116  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

a  most  excellent  Burmese  scholar,  and  was  enabled 
to  communicate  in  that  language  with  great  fluency. 
"  Mrs.  Boardman's  tours  in  the  Karen  wilderness, 
with  little  George,  borne  in  the  arms  of  her  follow- 
ers, beside  her — through  wild  mountain  passes, 
over  swollen  streams  and  deceitful  marshes,  and 
among  the  craggy  rocks  and  tangled  shrubs  of  the 
jungle — if  they  could  be  spread  out  in  detail, 
would  doubtless  present  scenes  of  thrilling  interest. 
But  her  singular  modesty  always  made  her  silent 
on  a  subject  which  would  present  her  in  a  light  so 
enterprising  and  adventurous.  Even  her  most  in- 
timate friends  could  seldom  draw  from  her  any 
thing  on  the  subject;  and  they  knew  little  more 
than  that  such  tours  were  made,  and  that  the  pro- 
gress of  the  gospel  was  not  suspended  among  the 
$  Karens  while  her  husband's  successor  was  engaged 
in  the  study  of  the  language.  There  is  a  note 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Mason,  from  a  zayat  by  the 
wayside,  just  before  she  reached  the  mountains; 
and  this  is  the  only  scrap  among  her  writings 
alluding  in  any  way  to  these  tours.  It  was  sent 
back  by  a  party  of  men  who  were  to  bring  her 
provisions,  and  contains  only  directions  about  the 
things  necessary  to  her  journey.  She  says :  '  Per- 
haps you  had  better  send  the  chair,  as  it  i-*  conve- 
nient to  be  carried  over  the  streams  when  they  are 
deep.  You  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
forded  all  the  smaller  ones.'  A  single  anecdote  is 
related  by  Captain  F ,  a  British  officer,  station- 
ed at  Tavoy;  and  he  used  to  dwell  with  much 


SARAH  BOARDMAN  JDD8GN.        117 

unction  on  the  lovely  apparition  which  once  greet- 
ed him  among  these  wild,  dreary  mountains.  He 
had  left  Tavoy,  accompanied  by  a  few  followers,  I 
think  on  a  hunting  expedition,  and  had  strolled  far 
into  the  jungle.  The  heavy  rains  which  deluge  this 
country  in  the  summer  had  not  yet  commenced; 
but  they  were  near  at  hand,  and  during  the  night 
had  sent  an  earnest  of  their  coming,  which  was 
any  thing  but  agreeable.  All  along  his  path 
hung  the  dripping  trailers,  and  beneath  his  feet 
were  the  roots  of  vegetables,  half-bared,  and  half- 
imbedded  in  mud ;  while  the  dark  clouds,  with  the 
rain  almost  incessantly  pouring  from  them,  and  the 
crazy  clusters  of  bamboo  huts,  which  appeared 
here  and  there  in  the  gloomy  waste,  and  were 
honored  by  the  name  of  village,  made  up  a  scene 
of  desolation  absolutely  indescribable.  A  heavy 
shower  coming  up  as  he  approached  a  zayat  by  the 
•wayside,  and  far  from  even  one  of  those  primitive 
villages,  he  hastily  took  refuge  beneath  the  roof. 
Here,  in  no  very  good  humor  with  the  world, 
especially  Asiatic  jungles  and  tropic  rains,  he  sulk 
ily  '  whistled  for  want  of  thought,'  and  employed, 
his  eyes  in  watching  the  preparations  for  his  break- 
fast. *  Uh !  what  wretched  corners  the  world  has, 
hidden  beyond  its  oceans  and  behind  ks  trees!' 
Just  as  he  had  made  this  sage  mental  reflection, 
he  was  startled  by  the  vision  of  a  fair,  smiling  face 
in  front  of  the  zayat,  the  property  of  a  dripping 
figure,  which  seemed  to  his  surprised  imagination 
to  have  stepped  that  moment  from  the  clouds. 


118  WOMEN   OF    WORTH. 

But  the  party  of  wild  Karen  followers,  which 
gathered  around  her,  had  a  very  human  air ;  and 
the  slight  burthens  they  bore  spoke  of  human 
wants  and  human  cares.  The  lady  seemed  as 
much  surprised  as  himself;  but  she  curtsied  with 
ready  grace,  as  she  made  some  pleasant  remark  hi 
English,  and  then  turned  to  retire.  Here  was  a 
dilemma.  He  could  not  suffer  the  lady  to  go  out 
into  the  rain,  but — his  miserable  accommodations, 
and  still  more  miserable  breakfast !  He  hesitated 
and  stammered;  but  her  quick  apprehension  had 
taken  it  all  at  a  glance,  and  she  at  once  relieved 
him  from  his  embarrassment.  Mentioning  her 
name  and  errand,  she  added,  smiling,  that  the 
emergencies  of  the  wilderness  were  not  knew  to 
her;  and  now  she  begged  leave  to  put  her  own 
breakfast  with  his,  and  make  up  a  pleasant  morning 
party.  Then  beckoning  to  her  Karens,  she  spoke 
a  few  unintelligible  words,  and  disappeared  under 
a  low  shed — a  mouldering  appendage  of  the  zayat. 
She  soon  returned  with  the  same  sunny  face,  and 
in  dry  clothing ;  and  very  pleasant  indeed  was  the 
interview  between  the  pious  officer  and  the  lady- 
missionary.  They  were  friends  afterward;  and 
the  circumstances  of  their  first  meeting  proved  a 
very  charming  reminiscence." 

After  three  years  of  widowhood,  Mrs.  Board- 
man  was  united  to  Dr.  Judson,  of  the  American 
mission,  at  Maulmain,  whither  she  removed  with 
her  little  son,  where  she  devoted  herself  to  the  ac- 
quirement of  a  new  language,  called  the  Peguan, 


SARAH  BOARDMAN  JUDSON.        119 

iii  which  «he  made  considerable  advancement.  She 
rrvi-rJ  i'ic  standard  tracts  in  Peguan,  and  the  cate- 
chism and  Gospel  according  to  St.  Luke ;  and,  as- 
sisted by  Ko-man-boke,  a  Peguan  Christian,  she 
tnmskted  the  New  Testament.  The  life  at  Maul- 
main  was  one  of  love,  labor,  and  trial.  Eight 
children  were  born  to  her  here,  and  three  of  them 
withered  away  and  died,  while,  to  add  to  the  depth 
of  her  trials,  Dr.  Judson  was  threatened  with  the 
fatal  disease  which  had  bereft  her  of  her  first  hus- 
band. Here,  too,  had  she  parted  from  her  oldest 
son,  and  endured  all  the  pangs  of  a  wife  and  loving 
mother.  Her  last  child  was  born  in  December, 
1844,  when  she  was  attacked  with  chronic  diar- 
rhcea,  from  which  she  had  suffered  much  in  the 
early  part  of  her  missionary  life.  It  soon  became 
evident,  from  the  sinking  of  her  physical  powers, 
that  death 'was  in  her  cup,  unless  some  remedy 
could  be  found  to  alleviate  her  sufferings :  and  a 
sea-voyage  being  the  only  thing  that  suggested, 
itself  to  the  physician,  she  departed  with  her  hus- 
band and  three  eldest  children  for  America.  At 
first,  the  voyage  seemed  to  produce  the  most  bene- 
ficial results,  and  she  even  proposed  to  proceed 
alone  from  the  Isle  of  France,  but  the  disease  re- 
turned once  more  with  fatal  virulence,  and  she 
died  at  sea  on  1st  September,  1845,  and  was  buried 
at  St.  Helena.  She  sleeps  amongst  the  distant 
mould  of  the  sea-washed  solitary  islo,  and  over  her 
ashes  her  husband  has  erected  a  monument,  with 
the  following  inscription :  "  Sacred  to  the  memory 


120  WOMEN   OF    WOETH. 

of  Sarah  B.  Judson,  member  of  the  American  Bap- 
tist Mission  to  Burmah,  formerly  wife  of  the  Rev. 
George  D.  Boardman,  of  Tavoy,  and  lately  wife 
of  the  Rev.  Adoniram  Judson,  of  Maulmain,  who 
died  in  this  port,  September  1, 1845,  on  her  passage 
to  the  United  States,  in  the  forty-second  year  of 
her  age,  and  the  twenty-first  of  her  missionary 
life." 

"  Would  that  those  who  declare  that  there  is  no 
vitality  in  Christianity,  could  see  and  appreciate 
the  courage  and  sacrifices  which  animate  and  are 
demanded  from  those  who,  like  Mrs.  Judson,  go 
forth  to  tell  the  darkened  savage  of  Christ ! 


RACHEL,   LADY  BUS8ELL.  121 


THE    NOBLE    DAME. 

RACHEL,   LADY   RUSSELL. 

"She  neither  sought  to  .«hin«  In  the  world  by  the  extent  of  her  capa- 
city, nor  to  display,  by  affected  retirement,  the  elevation  of  her  soul ; 
ami  when  circumstances  obliged  her  to  come  forward  on  the  stage  of  his- 
tory, she  showed  herself  In  the  appropriate  character  of  a  wife  and  a 
mother.  llenee  we  may  Mi*ee,  that  the  unobtrusive  mndenty  of  pri- 
vate lift  contain*  many  a  female  capable  of  giving  the  tame  trample 
to  her  MB.  and  to  mankind."— LORD  JOHN  RUSSELL'S  REMARKS  ox  TBB 
CHARACTKB  or  RACHEL,  LADY  RUSSELL. 

•'  A  woman  distinguished  fur  ardenc  and  tender  affection ;  pious,  reflect- 
ing. Arm,  and  courageous;  alike  exemplary  In  prosperity  and  adversity, 
when  observed  by  multitude*,  or  hidden  in  retirement." 

RACHEL,  LADY  RUSSELL,  second  daughter  of 
Thomas  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  was 
born  in  1636.  She  married  first  Lord  Vaughan; 
and  after  his  death  she  married,  in  1669,  William, 
Lord  Russell,  third  son  of  William,  first  Duke  of 
Bedford.  One  son  and  two  daughters  were  the 
fruits  of  this  union,  which  was  a  very  happy  one, 
though  Lady  Rachel  was  four  or  five  years  older 
than  I»«T  husband.  Lord  Russell,  being  implicate*! 
in  a  conspiracy  with  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  nat- 
ural son  of  Charles  II.,  Algernon  Sidney,  John 
Hampdcn,  grandson  to  the  celebrated  patriot  of 


122  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

that  name,  Essex,  and  Howard,  to  prevent  the  suc- 
cession of  the  Duke  of  York  to  the  throne,  was 
arrested  and  sent  to  the  Tower.  Monmouth  fled ; 
Howard  saved  himself  by  revealing  his  accom- 
plices; and  Essex,  Sidney,  and  Hampden,  were 
apprehended  on  his  evidence.  They  were  also 
accused  of  conspiring  against  the  life  of  Charles 
II.,  which  was  not  true.  The  Protestant  succes- 
sion, and  the  prevention  of  encroachments  on  the 
liberties  of  the  people,  were  their  chief  objects. 

On  the  day  of  his  trial  Lord  Russell  asked  leave 
of  the  court  that  notes  of  the  evidence  might  be 
taken  for  his  use.  He  was  informed  that  he  might 
have  the  assistance  of  one  of  his  servants.  "  My 
wife  is  here,  my  lord,  to  do  it,"  replied  the  noble 
prisoner.  The  spectators,  seeing  the  daughter  of 
the  virtuous  Southampton  thus  assisting  her  hus- 
band in  his  distress,  melted  into  tears.  Every  ap- 
plication to  save  Lord  Russell  proved  vain.  The 
independent  spirit,  patriotism,  popularity,  courage, 
talents,  and  virtues  of  the  prisoner,  were  his  most 
dangerous  offences,  and  became  so  many  arguments 
against  his  escape. 

Lady  Russell  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  the 
king,  and  pleaded  with  tears  the  merits  and  loyalty 
of  her  father,  as  an  atonement  for  her  husband's 
offences.  But  Charles  remained  unmoved,  and 
even  rejected  her  petition  for  a  respite  of  a  few 
weeks.  On  finding  every  effort  fruitless  for  saving 
the  life  of  her  husband,  she  collected  her  courage, 
and  fortified  her  mind  for  the  fatal  stroke,  confirm- 


RACHEL,    LADY   RUSSELL.  123 

ing  by  her  example  the  resolution  of  her  husband. 
HU  courage  never  appeared  to  falter  but  when  he 
spoke  of  his  wife ;  his  eyes  would  then  fill  with 
-,  and  he  appeared  anxious  to  avoid  the  sub- 
Wlu-n  parting  from  Lady  Russell,  they  mu- 
tually preserved  a  solemn  silence;  and  when  she 
loll  him,  he  said,  "The  bitterness  of  death  was 
pa>t.M  He  tlu-n  expressed  his  gratitude  to  Provi- 
dence that  had  given  him  a  wife  who,  to  birth, 
fortune,  talents,  and  virtue,  united  sensibility  of 
heart ;  and  whose  conduct  in  this  trying  crisis,  had 
i-\en  siirpa— ed  all  her  other  virtues. 

Lord  Itussell  was  executed  July  21st,  1683.  His 
widow  proved  the  faithful  guardian  of  his  honor,  a 
v  !->•  and  aetive  mother  to  his  children,  and  a  friend 
and  patroness  of  his  friends. 

Her  letters,  written  after  her  husband's  death, 
give  a  touching  picture  of  her  conjugal  affection 
and  fidelity;  but  no  expression  of  resentment  or 
traces  of  a  vindictive  spirit  mingle  with  the  senti 
ment  of  grief  by  which  they  are  pervaded. 

Her  only  son,  Wriothesley,  Duke  of  Bedford, 
dit  .1  in  1711,  of  the  small-pox;  and  soon  after  her 
daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Rutland,  died  in  child- 
bed. Her  other  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire, was  also  in  childbed  at  the  time  of  her  sis- 
ter's death ;  and  Lady  Russell  again  was  called 
upon  to  give  new  proofs  of  her  self-control.  After 
beholding  one  daughter  in  her  coffin,  she  went  to 
the  chamber  of  the  other  with  a  tranquil  count* 
.  The  Duchess  of  Devonshire  earnestly  inquir 


124:  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

ing  after  her  sister,  Lady  Russell  calmly  replied, 
"  I  have  seen  your  sister  out  of  bed  to-day." 

Some  years  after  her  husband's  death,  she  was 
under  apprehensions  of  an  entire  loss  of  sight ;  but 
this  was  prevented  by  an  operation.  Lady  Russell 
died  September  29th,  1723,  aged  eighty-seven. 
About  fifty  years  afterward,  her  letters  were  col- 
lected and  published,  which  established  her  fame 
in  literature,  as  one  of  the  most  elegant  writers  of 
her  time.  In  whatever  light  we  consider  her  char- 
acter, its  moral  excellence  appears  perfect.  Such 
an  example  shows  the  power  of  female  influence  to 
promote  good  and  resist  evil.  Even  the  noble  Lord 
Russell  was  made  better  by  his  union  with  her. 
Amiable  and  prudent,  as  well  as  lovely,  she  was 
the  means  of  reclaiming  him  from  some  youthful 
follies  into  which  he  had  plunged  at  the  time  of 
the  Restoration.  With  such  a  guardian  angel  by 
his  side,  no  wonder  he  was  strengthened  to  act  his 
lofty  part,  and  die  a  patriot  martyr.  His  widow 
wore  her  weeds  to  the  close  of  her  life ;  their  con- 
jugal union  of  hearts  was  never  broken,  as  the  fol- 
lowing extracts  from  her  letters  will  show : — 

TO   DR.   FITZWILLIAM — ON^   HER   SORROW. 

I  am  sure  my  heart  is  filled  with  the  obligation, 
how  ill  soever  my  words  may  express  it,  for  all 
those  hours  you  have  set  apart  (in  a  busy  life)  for 
my  particular  benefit,  for  the  quieting  of  my  dis- 
tracted thoughts,  and  reducing  them  to  a  just  meas- 


RACHEL,    LADY   RUSSELL.  12i> 

are  of  patience  for  all  I  have  or  can  suffer.  I  trust 
I  shall,  with  diligence,  and  some  success,  serve 
those  ends  they  were  designed  to.  They  have  very 
punctually,  the  time  you  intended  them  for,  the 
last  two  sheets  coming  to  my  hands  the  16th  of  this 
fatal  month;  it  is  the  21st  completes  my  three 
years  of  true  sorrow,  which  should  be  turned  rather 
into  joy ;  as  you  have  laid  it  before  me,  with  rea- 
sons strongly  maintained,  and  rarely  illustrated. 
Sure  he  is  one  of  those  has  gained  by  a  dismission 
from  a  longer  attendance  here;  while  he  lived,  his 
being  pleased  led  me  to  be  so  too,  and  so  it  should 
do  still ;  and  then  my  soul  should  be  full  of  joy ; 
I  should  be  easy  and  cheerful,  but  it  is  sad  and 
heavy ;  so  little  we  distinguish  how,  and  why  we 
love,  to  me  it  argues  a  prodigious  fondness  of  one's 
self;  I  am  impatient  that  is  hid  from  me  I  took 
delight  in,  though  he  knows  much  greater  than  he 
did  here.  All  I  can  say  for  myself,  is,  that  while 
we  are  clothed  with  flesh,  to  the  perfectest,  some 
displeasure  will  attend  a  separation  from  things 
we  love.  This  comfort  I  think  I  have  in  my  afflic- 
tion, that  I  can  say,  unless  thy  law  had  been  my 
delight,  I  should  have  perished  in  my  trouble.  The 
riMiig  from  the  dead  is  a  glorious  contemplation, 
doctor !  nothing  raises  a  drooping  spirit  like  it ;  his 
Holy  Spirit,  in  the  mean  time,  speaking  peace  to 
our  consciences,  and  through  all  the  gloomy  sad- 
ness of  our  condition,  letting  us  discern  that  we 
belong  to  the  election  of  grace,  that  our  persons 
are  accepted  and  justified.  But  still  I  will  humble 


126  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

myself  for  my  own  sins,  and  those  of  our  families, 
that  brought  such  a  day  on  us. 

I  have  been  under  more  than  ordinary  care  for 
my  eldest  girl ;  she  has  been  ill  of  St.  Anthony's 
fire,  as  we  call  it,  and  is  not  yet  free  from  it.  I 
had  a  doctor  down  with  her,  but  he  found  her  so 
likely  to  do  well  he  stayed  only  one  day.  I  have 
sent  you  these  Gazettes,  and  will  send  no  more,  for 
I  reckon  you  will  be  in  your  progress  of  visits. 

I  wish  with  you  Lord  Campden  would  marry ; 
but  I  want  skill  to  prevail  by  what  I  can  say.  I 
hope  I  need  employ  none  to  persuade  Dr.  Fitzwil- 
liam  that  I  am  very  acknowledging,  and  very  sin- 
cerely, etc. 

TO  THE  SAME. 
******* 

If  I  could  contemplate  the  conducts  of  Provi- 
dence with  the  uses  you  do,  it  would  give  ease 
indeed,  and  no  disastrous  events  should  much 
affect  us.  The  new  scenes  of  each  day  make  me 
often  conclude  myself  very  void  of  temper  and 
reason,  that  I  still  shed  tears  of  sorrow  and  not  of 
joy,  that  so  good  a  man  is  landed  safe  on  the 
happy  shore  of  a  blessed  eternity ;  doubtless  he  is 
at  rest,  though  I  find  none  without  him,  so  true  a 
partner  he  was  in  all  my  joys  and  griefs;  I  trust 
the  Almighty  will  pass  by  this  my  infirmity;  I 
speak  it  in  respect  to  the  world,  from  whose  en- 
ticing delights  I  can  now  be  better  weaned.  I  was 
too  rich  in  possessions  whilst  I  possessed  him :  all 


RACHEL,    LADY   KU88ELL.  127 

relish  is  now  gone,  I  bless  God  for  it,  and  pray, 
and  ask  of  all  good  people  (do  it  for  me  from  such 
you  know  are  so)  also  to  pray  that  I  may  more 
and  more  turn  the  stream  of  my  affections  upward, 
and  set  my  heart  upon  the  ever-satisfying  perfec- 
tions of  God;  not  starting  at  his  darkest  provi- 
dences, but  remembering  continually  either  his 
glory,  justice,  or  power  is  advanced  by  every  one 
of  them,  and  that  mercy  is  over  all  his  works,  as 
we  shall  one  day  with  ravishing  delight  see :  in  the 
iiu-iin  time,  I  endeavor  to  suppress  all  wild  imagi- 
nations a  melancholy  fancy  is  apt  to  let  in;  and 
say  with  the  man  in  the  gospel,  "  I  believe,  help 
thou  my  unbelief." 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Never  shall  I,  good  doctor,  I  hope,  forget  your 
work  (as  I  may  term  it)  of  labor  and  love :  so  in- 
structive and  comfortable  do  I  find  it,  that  at  any 
time  when  I  have  iv:id  any  of  your  papers,  I  feel  a 
within  me  to  be  repeating  my  thanks  to  you 
anew,  which  is  all  I  can  do  toward  the  discharge 
of  a  debt  you  have  engaged  me  in ;  and  though 
nobody  loves  more  than  I  do  to  stand  free  from 
engagements  I  cannot  answer,  yet  I  do  not  wish 
for  it  here;  I  would  have  it  as  it  is;  and  although 
I  have  the  present  advantage,  you  will  have  the 
future  reward;  and  if  I  can  truly  reap  what  I 
know  you  design  me  by  it,  a  religious  and  quiet 
submission  to  all  providences,  I  am  assured  you 


128  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

will  esteem  to  have  attained  it  here  in  some  meas- 
ure. Never  could  you  more  seasonably  have  fed 
me  with  such  discourses,  and  left  me  with  expecta- 
tions of  new  repasts,  in  a  more  seasonable  time, 
than  these  my  miserable  months,  and  in  those  this 
very  week  in  which  I  have  lived  over  again  that 
fatal  day  that  determined  what  fell  out  a  week 
after,  and  that  has  given  me  so  long  and  so  bitter 
a  time  of  sorrow.  But  God  has  a  compass  in  his 
providences,  that  is  out  of  our  reach,  and  as  he  is 
all  good  and  wise,  that  consideration  should  in 
reason  slacken  the  fierce  rages  of  grief.  But  sure, 
doctor,  'tis  the  nature  of  sorrow  to  lay  hold  on  all 
things  which  give  a  new  ferment  to  it,  then  how 
could  I  choose  but  feel  it  in  a  time  of  so  much  con- 
fusion as  these  last  weeks  have  been,  closing  so 
tragically  as  they  have  done ;  and  sure  never  any 
poor  creature,  for  two  whole  years  together,  has 
had  more  awakers  to  quicken  and  revive  the  an- 
guish of  its  soul  than  I  have  had ;  yet  I  hope  I  do 
most  truly  desire  that  nothing  may  be  so  bitter  to 
me,  as  to  think  that  I  have  in  the  least  offended 
thee,  O  my  God !  and  that  nothing  may  be  so  mar- 
vellous in  my  eyes  as  the  exceeding  love  of  my 
Lord  Jesus:  that  heaven  being  my  aim,  and  the 
longing  expectations  of  my  soul,  I  may  go  through 
.honor  and  dishonor,  good  report  and  bad  report, 
prosperity  and  adversity,  with  some  evenness  of 
mind.  The  inspiring  me  with  these  desires  is,  I 
hope,  a  token  of  his  never-failing  love  toward  me, 
though  an  unthankful  creature  for  all  the  good 


BACHEL,    LADY   BUSSELL.  129 

I  have  enjoyed,  and  do  still  in  the  lives  of 
hopeful  children  by  so  beloved  a  husband. 


TO   THE    EARL   OF   GALWAY — ON   FRIENDSHIP. 

I  have  before  me,  my  good  lord,  two  of  your 
I t-t tors,  both  partially  and  tenderly  kind,  and  coming 
from  a  sincere  heart  and  honest  mind  (the  last  a 
plain  word,  but,  if  I  mistake  not,  very  significant), 
are  very  comfortable  to  me,  who,  I  hope,  have  no 
proud  thoughts  of  myself  as  to  any  sort.  The 
opinion  of  an  esteemed  friend,  that  one  is  not  very 
wrong,  assists  to  strengthen  a  weak  and  willing 
mind  to  do  her  duty  toward  that  Almighty  Being, 
who  has,  from  infinite  bounty  and  goodness,  so 
chequered  my  days  on  this  earth,  as  I  can  thank- 
fully reflect  I  felt  many,  I  may  say  many  years  of 
pure,  and,  I  trust,  innocent,  pleasant  content,  and 
happy  enjoyments  as  this  world  can  afford,  partic- 
ularly that  biggest  blessing  of  loving  and  being 
l«'vr«l  l»y  thoM-  1  l«ive«l  and  respected;  on  earth  no 
enjoyment  certainly  to  be  put  in  the  balance  with 
it.  All  other  are  like  wine,  intoxicates  for  a  time, 
but  the  end  is  bitterness,  at  least  not  profitable. 
Mr.  Waller  (whose  picture  you  look  upon)  has,  I 
long  remember,  these  words : 

"All  we  know  they  do  above 
la,  that  they  sing,  and  that  they  love." 

The  best  news  I  have  heard  is,  you  have  two 
good  companions  with  you,  which,  I  trust,  will 


130  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

contribute  to  divert  you  this  sharp  season,  when, 
after  so  sore  a  fit  as  I  apprehend  you  have  felt,  the 
air  even  of  your  improving  pleasant  garden  cannot 
be  enjoyed  without  hazard. 

TO   LADY  SUNDEKLAND ON   HEALTH,  FRIENDSHIP, 

LOVE. 

Your  kind  letter,  madam,  asks  me  to  do  much 
better  for  myself  and  mine,  than  to  scribble  so  in- 
significantly as  I  do  in  a  piece  of  paper ;  but  for 
twenty  several  reasons  you  must  have  the  advantage 
you  offer  me  with  obliging  earnestness  a  thousand 
times  greater  than  I  deserve,  or  there  can  be  cause 
for,  but  that  you  have  taken  a  resolution  to  be  all 
goodness  and  favor  to  me.  And  indeed  what 
greater  mark  can  you  almost  give  than  remember- 
ing me  so  often,  and  letting  me  receive  the  exceed- 
ing advantage  of  your  doing  so,  by  reading  your 
letters,  which  are  all  so  edifying  ?  When  I  know 
you  are  continually  engaged  in  so  great  and  neces- 
sary employments  as  you  are,  and  have  but  too 
imperfect  health,  which  to  any  other  in  the  world 
but  Lady  Sunderland  would  unfit  for  at  least  so 
great  despatches  as  you  are  charged  with.  These 
are  most  visible  tokens  of  Providence,  that  every 
one  that  aims  to  do  their  duty  shall  be  enabled  to 
do  it. 

I  hope  your  natural  strength  is  so  great,  that  it 
will  in  some  time,  if  you  do  your  part,  master  what 
has  been  accidentally  in  the  disorder  of  it.  Health, 
if  one  strictly  considers,  is  the  first  of  earthly  bless- 


RACHEL,   LADY    RUSSELL.  131 

ings;  for  even  the  conversation  of  friends,  which  as 
to  >iiiritu:il  profits,  as  you  excellently  observe,  is 
the  nearest  approach  we  can  make  to  heaven  while 
we  live  in  these  tabernacles  of  clay  ;  so  it  is  in  a 
temporal  sense,  also,  the  most  pleasant  and  the 
mo-t  profitable  improvement  we  can  make  of  the 
time  we  are  to  spend  on  earth.  But,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, if  our  bodies  are  out  of  tune,  how  ill  do  we 
enjoy  what  in  itself  is  so  precious?  and  how  often 
mu>t  we  choose,  if  we  can  attain  it,  a  short  slum- 
ber, that  may  take  oft*  our  sense  of  pain,  than  to 
accept  what  we  know  in  worth  excels  almost  to  in- 
finitenos  ?  Xo  soul  can  gpeak  more  feelingly  than 
my  poor  self  on  this  subject ;  who  can  truly  say, 
my  friendships  have  made  all  the  joys  and  troubles 
of  my  life  ;  and  yet  who  would  live  and  not  love? 
Those  who  have  tried  the  insipidness  of  it  would,  I 
believe,  never  choose  it.  Mr.  Waller  says — "  Tis 
(with  siuj/mir)  nil  we  know  they  do  above."  And 
it  is  enough  ;  for  if  there  is  so  charming  a  delight 
in  the  love,  and  suitableness  in  humors,  to  creature-: 
what  nm-t  it  bo  to  our  clarified  spirits  to  love  in 
tin-  pn-M'iice  of  God !  Can  there  be  a  greater  con. 
trmplatioii  to  provoke  to  diligence  for  our  prepa- 
ration to  that  threat  change,  win-re  we  shall  be  per- 
1,  and  so  continue  for  ever!  I  see  I  have 
scribble- 1  a  irreat  deal  of  paper;  I  dare  not  read  it, 
h-t  I  should  be  sorry,  Lady  Sunderland  should; 
and  yet  can  now  send  her  nothing  if  not  this,  for 
my  eyes  grow  ill  so  fast,  I  resolve  to  do  nothing  of 
this  sort  by  candle-light. 


132  WOMKN  OF 


THE  PATTERN  OF  DOMESTIC  VIRTUE. 

LUCY  HUTCHINSON, 

DAUGHTER  of  Sir  Allan  Apsley,  was  born  in  1624. 
At  the  age  of  eighteen  she  was  married  to  Colonel 
John  Hutchinson,  who  distinguished  himself  as  one 
of  the  most  efficient  among  the  Puritan  leaders  in 
the  war  between  Charles  I.  and  the  Parliament. 
Their  courtship  was  a  very  romantic  one,  as  it  is 
given  by  the  lady  in  her  "Memoir"  of  her  hus- 
band. She  says :  "  Never  was  there  a  passion  more 
ardent  and  less  idolatrous ;  he  loved  her  better  than 
his  life ;  with  inexpressible  tenderness  and  kind- 
ness; had  a  most  high,  obliging  esteem  of  her; 
yet  still  considered  honor,  religion,  and  duty,  above 
her;  nor  ever  suffered  the  intrusion  of  such  a 
dotage  as  should  blind  him  from  marking  her  im- 
perfections." That  it  was  "  not  her  face  he  loved," 
but  "  her  honor  and  her  virtue  were  his  mistress," 
he  abundantly  proved ;  for,  "  on  the  day  fixed  for 
the  marriage,  when  the  friends  of  both  parties  were 
assembled,  and  all  were  waiting  the  appearance  of 
the  bride,  she  was  suddenly  seized  with  an  illness, 
at  that  time  often  the  most  fatal  to  life  and  beauty. 


LUCY  HUTCHIN80N.  133 

She  was  taken  ill  of  the  small-pox ;  was  for  some 
time  in  imminent  danger;  and,  at  last,  when  her 
ivcMvery  was  assured,  the  return  of  her  personal 
attractions  was  considered  more  than  doubtful." 
She  says,  indeed,  herself,  that  her  illness  made  her, 
for  a  long  time  after  she  had  regained  her  health, 
"  the  most  deformed  person  that  could  be  seen." 
Hut  Mr.  Hutc'hinson's  affection  was  as  strong  as  his 
honor.  lie  neither  doubted  nor  delayed  to  pros- 
ecute his  suit ;  but,  thankful  to  God  for  her  pres- 
ervation, he  claimed  her  hand  as  soon  as  she  was 
able  to  quit  her  chamber,  and  when  the  clergyman 
who  performed  the  service,  ami  the  friends  who 
witnessed  it,  were  afraid  to  look  at  the  wreck  of 
her  beauty.  He  was  rewarded;  for  her  features 
were  restored,  unblemished  as  before;  and  her 
form,  when  he  presented  her  as  his  \s  ifc,  justified 
his  taste  as  much  as  her  more  intrinsic  Dualities 
did  las  jiid^ini nt.  They  were  united  to  each  other 
on  the  3d  of  July,  1038. 

Their  union  was  an  example  of  the  happiness 
which  marriage  confers  on  those  who  fulfil  its 
duties  in  holy  truth  and  faithful  love.  In  the  perils 
of  war,  Mrs.  llutdiinson  was  an  attendant  on  her 
beloved  husband  ;  and  when,  after  the  restoration 
of  Charles  II.,  Colonel  Hutchinson  was  imprisoned 
in  the  Tower,  she  followed  him,  and  never  ceased 
her  exertions  and  importunities  till  she  was  per- 
mitted to  vixit  him.  When  her  husband  was  re- 
m»v.  .1  to  Sundown  Castle,  in  Kent,  she,  with  some 
of  her  children,  went  also,  and  used  every  entreaty 


134:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

to  be  permitted  to  reside  in  the  castle  with  him. 
This  was  refused ;  but  she  took  lodgings  in  Deal, 
and  walked  every  day  to  Sandown  to  see  and  cheer 
the  prisoner.  All  that  could  be  done  to  obtain  his 
pardon  or  liberation  she  did ;  but  as  Colonel  Hutch- 
inson  was  a  Puritan  and  a  republican  on  princi- 
ple, and  would  not  disclaim  his  opinions,  though 
he  would  promise  to  live  in  quiet,  his  enemies  listen- 
ed to  no  pleadings  for  mercy.  What  was  to  have 
been  his  ultimate  punishment  will  never  be  known ; 
the  damp  and  miserable  apartment  in  which  he 
was  confined  brought  on  an  illness  which  ended  his 
life,  September  llth,  1664,  leaving  his  wife  with 
eight  children  and  an  embarrassed  estate,  to  mourn 
his  irreparable  loss.  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  not  with 
him  at  his  death ;  she  had  gone  to  their  home  to 
obtain  supplies,  and  bring  away  the  children  left 
there.  His  death-scene  shows  the  estimation  in 
which  he  held  her.  So  long  as  he  was  able  to  sit 
up,  he  read  much  in  the  Bible ;  and  on  looking 
over  some  notes  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  he 
said,  "  When  my  wife  returns,  I  will  no  more  ob- 
serve their  cross  humors ;  but  when  her  children 
are  all  near,  I  will  have  her  in  the  chamber  with 
me,  and  they  shall  not  pluck  her  out  of  my  arms. 
During  the  winter  evenings  she  shall  collect  to- 
gether the  observations  I  have  made  on  this  Epistle 
since  I  have  been  in  prison." 

As  he  grew  worse,  the  doctor  feared  delirium, 
and  advised  his  brother  and  daughter  not  to  defer 
any  thing  they  wished  to  say  to  him.  Being  in- 


LUCT  HUTCniNSOJf.  135 

formed  of  his  condition,  he  replied  with  much  com- 
posure, "The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done;  I  am 
ready."  II.-  then  gave  directions  concerning  the 
disposal  of  his  fortune,  and  left  strict  injunctions 
that  his  children  should  be  guided  in  all  things  by 
their  mother.  "And  tell  her,"  said  he,  "that  as 
she  is  above  other  women,  so  must  she  on  this 
occasion  show  herself  a  good  Christian,  and  above 
tin-  pitch  of  ordinary  minds." 

tht'ully  she  fulfilled  these  injunctions;  evin- 
cing her  sorrow  and  her  love,  not  by  useless  repin- 
ings,  but  by  training  up  her  children  to  be  like 
their  father,  and  employing  her  talents  in  con- 
structing a  monument  to  his  fame.  For  this  pur- 
pose she  undertook  her  great  work,  "  The  Life  of 
Colonel  Hutchinson,  by  his  widow  Lucy."  This 
has  been  rapabfished  lately,  and  the  "Edinburgh 

v"  thus  closes  a  notice  of  the  work: 
"Education  is  certainly  far  more  generally  dif- 
l  in  our  days,  and  accomplishments  infinitely 
more  common ;  but  the  perusal  of  this  volume  has 
taught  us  to  doubt  whether  the  better   sort  of 
women  were  not  fashioned  of  old,  by  a  purer  and 
more   exalted   standard;   ami    whether   the   most 
eminent    It-male   of   the    present   day    would   not 
appear  to  disadvantage  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Hutcli- 
in-»n.     There  is  something  in  the  dome-tie  virtue 
and  calm  commanding  mind  of  this  English  ma- 
tron, that  makes  the  Corinnes  and  lleloises  appear 
insignificant.     We   may  safely   venture  to 
assert  that  a  nation  which  produces  many  such 


136  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

wives  and  mothers  as  Mrs.  Lucy  Hutchinson,  must 
be  both  great  and  happy." 

We  should  do  injustice  to  the  worth  of  female 
genius  if  we  omitted  to  give  at  least  a  brief  extract 
from  this  work  of  Mrs.  Hutchinson.  An  "Address 
to  her  Children"  forms  the  introduction  to  the 
memoir.  Thus  she  writes : 

"  I,  who  am  under  a  command  not  to  grieve  at 
the  common  rate  of  desolate  women,  while  I  am 
studying  which  way  to  moderate  my  woe,  and,  if 
it  were  possible,  to  augment  my  love,  can  find  out 
none  more  just  to  your  dear  father,  or  more  con- 
soling to  myself,  than  the  preservation  of  his  mem- 
ory; which  I  need  not  gild  with  such  flattering 
commendations  as  the  hired  preachers  equally  give 
to  the  truly  and  the  nominally  honorable ;  an  un- 
drest  narrative,  speaking  the  simple  truth  of  him, 
will  deck  him  with  more  substantial  glory  than  all 
the  panegyrics  the  best  pens  could  ever  consecrate 
to  the  virtues  of  the  best  men.  To  number  his 
virtues  is  to  give  the  epitome  of  his  life,  which  was 
nothing  else  but  a  progress  from  one  degree  of 
virtue  to  another.  His  example  was  more  instruct- 
ive than  the  best  rules  of  the  moralists ;  for  his 
practice  was  of  a  more  divine  extraction,  drawn 
from  the  word  of  God,  and  wrought  up  by  the 
assistance  of  his  spirit.  He  had  a  noble  method  of 
government,  whether  in  civil,  military,  or  domestic 
administrations;  which  forced  love  and  reverence 
even  from  unwilling  subjects,  and  greatly  endeared 
him  to  the  souls  of  those  who  rejoiced  to  be  gov- 


LUCY   HUTCIIINSON.  137 

erned  by  him.  He  had  a  native  majesty  that  struck 
awe  into  the  hearts  of  men,  and  a  sweet  greatness 
that  oonnmded  love. 


"His  affection  for  his  wife  was  such,  that  whoever 
would  form  rules  of  kindness,  honor,  and  religion, 
to  be  practised  in  that  state,  need  no  more,  but 
exactly  draw  out  his  example.  Man  never  had  a 
greater  passion  or  a  more  honorable  esteem  for 
woman ;  yet  he  was  not  uxorious,  and  never  remit- 
ted that  ju-t  rule  which  it  was  her  honor  to  obey; 
but  he  managed  the  reins  of  government  with  such 
prudence  and  affection,  that  she  who  would  not 
deliirht  in  such  honorable  and  advantageous  sub- 
jection must  have  wanted  a  reasonable  soul.  He 
governed  by  persuasion,  which  he  never  employed 
but  in  things  profitable  to  herself.  He  loved  her 
soul  better  than  her  countenance ;  yet  even  for  her 
person  he  had  a  constant  affection,  exceeding  the 
common  temporary  passion  of  fond  fools.  If  he 
•ued  her  at  a  higher  rate  than  she  deserved, 
he  was  himself  the  author  of  the  virtue  he  doated 
on;  for  she  was  but  a  faithful  mirror,  reflecting 
truly,  but  dimly,  his  own  glories  upon  him.  When 
she  ceased  to  be  young  and  lovely,  he  showed  her 
tin;  most  tenderness.  He  loved  her  at  such  a  kind 
and  generous  rate  as  words  cannot  express;  yet 
ev.-u  this,  which  was  the  highest  love  any  man 
could  have,  was  bounded  by  a  superior  feeling;  he 
regarded  her,  not  as  his  idol,  but  as  his  fellow 


138  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

creature  in  the  Lord,  and  proved  that  such  a  feel- 
ing exceeds  all  the  irregularities  in  the  world." 

Mrs.  Hutchinson  brought  up  her  children  and 
lived  to  see  some  of  them  married.  The  time  of 
her  decease  is  not  known. 


ISABEL  THE  CATHOLIC.  13J> 


THE  FRIEND  OF  COLUMBUS. 

ISABEL  THE  CATHOLIC. 

To  judge  aright  of  the  merits  of  Isabel  the  Catholic 
as  an  administratrix  of  public  affairs,  in  virtue  of 
which,  and  of  her  queenly  arts  and  endowments, 
she  became  so  firmly  fixed  in  the  hearts  and  affec- 
« »fher  subjects,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take  a 
irlance  at  the  hi^h  state  of  prosperity  and  political 
consequence  enjoyed  by  the  kingdom  of  Castile 
pn-vious  to  the  accession  of  the  house  of  Trasta- 
mara,  in  1368,  and  of  the  causes  of  the  subsequent 
decline  of  its  glory  among  the  nations,  and  the 
condition  to  which  it  had  been  reduced  by  long 
of  misrule,  at  the  commencement  of  her 
iin>-t  au-piri<nis  reign. 

So  far  hack  as  the  fifth  century,  the  germs  of 
constitutional  liberty  and  of  many  free  institutions 
had  been  introduced  into  the  Peninsula  by  that 
branch  of  the  Teutonic  race  by  which  it  was  then 
overrun.  These,  however,  had  been  only  partially 
unfolded  when  the  great  Saracen  invasion  of  the 
eighth  century,  which  seemed  at  first  to  threaten 
their  extinction,  proved, on  the  contrary,  the  means 


140  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

of  their  more  rapid  development.  The  enjoyment 
of  long  peace  and  prosperity  had  done  its  usual 
work  in  relaxing  the  morals  of  both  the  court  and 
the  clergy.  Driven  by  the  invader  beyond  the 
sterile  mountains  of  the  north,  they  must  toil  for 
the  most  scanty  subsistence,  or,  descending  from 
their  fastnesses,  snatch  it,  sword  in  hand,  from  the 
mighty  foe  who  lay  stretched  on  the  plains  beneath. 
At  length  priest  and  people  girded  themselves  for 
the  conflict  of  centuries,  and  when  the  Spaniards 
descended  into  the  open  plains  of  Castile  and  Leon, 
they  were  never  secure  from  the  pi-edatory  incur- 
sions of  the  Arabs,  until  they  had  driven  them 
beyond  some  natural  boundary — a  river,  or  a  chain 
of  mountains — securing  their  conquests  by  strong 
fortifications.  The  Castilian  towns  being  specially 
open  to  these  incursions,  every  citizen  was  trained 
to  arms,  and  the  burgesses  were  the  most  effective 
part  of  the  militia.  Charters  of  communion  were 
early  granted,  the  most  ancient  extant  bearing  date 
1020.  By  these,  the  citizens  had  the  right  of  elect- 
ing their  own  magistrates,  who  appointed  judges 
of  the  law. 

In  1169,  at  Burgos,  occurred  the  earliest  instance 
on  record  of  popular  representation,  almost  a  cen- 
tury before  the  parliament  of  Leicester.  So  great 
was  the  power  of  the  popular  branch  of  the. Cas- 
tilian cortes,  whose  members  were  originally  nom- 
inated by  the  householders,  but  afterward  by  the 
municipal  bodies,  that  no  tax  could  be  imposed 
without  their  consent ;  they  narrowly  watched  and 


ISABEL  THE  CATHOLIC.  141 

restrained  the  public  expenditure,  venturing  even 
•••.rulate  the  economy  of  the  royal  household; 
ami  no  title  to  the  crown  was  valid  without  their 
(.•"iiM'iit.  The  nobles  and  clergy  might  attend  in 
S  but  legislative  acts  were  valid  without  their 
sanction.  Both  these  orders  were  exempt  from 
•ion,  and  the  situation  of  Castile  was  no  less 
favorable  to  the  growth  of  their  power.  Embarked 
with  their  king  in  rescuing  their  country  from  the 
infidel,  thry  hesitated  not  to  divide  with  him  the 
spoil.  Immense  domains  were  thus  accumulated, 
and  each  noble  was  a  petty  sovereign.  In  the  end 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  when  Castile  had  reached 
nith,  the  constable  Davalos  could  ride  through 
his  own  e-tates  from  Seville  to  Compostella,  nearly 
the  two  extremities  of  tin-  kingdom.  Eighty  towns 
ami  castles  were  under  the  sway  of  the  Lord  of 
y.  A  court  favorite  could  muster  twenty 
thousand  vassals.  It  is  scarcely  a  figure  of  speech 
to  say  that  they  were  warriors  from  their  cradle. 
Memlo/a  tells  of  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Mar- 
quis of  Cadi/  carrying  out  with  him  to  battle  h!»; 
son,  only  thirteen  y.  ars  old,  adding,  "an,  ancient 
usage  in  that  noble  house."  And  the  only  son  of- 
Alf«m-« >  VI.  was  slain  when  only  eleven,  fighting. 
manfully  in  the  ranks. 

Kver  sine.-  that  memorable  day  on,  which  St. 

.Tamrs  hail  been  seen  hovering  in  the  air,  mounted 

on  a  milk-whito  steed,  leading  on  to  victory,  and 

M'_:  aloft  the  banner  of  the  cross,  when  seventy 

thousand  intidda  fe41  on  the  field,  the  name  of  St, 


142  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Jago  had  been  the  war-cry  of  the  Spaniards ;  and, 
in  imitation  of  the  military  apostle,  their  patron 
saint,  priests  militant  went  forth  with  the  crucifix 
in  their  hands,  leading  on  the  soldiers  to  battle. 
In  an  age  holding  wealth  in  contempt,  these  war- 
like prelates  amassed  enormous  riches,  for  when  a 
town  was  rescued  from  the  infidel,  some  ancient 
religious  establishment  must  be  supported,  or  a 
new  one  founded.  The  Archbishop  of  Toledo, 
primate  of  Spain,  and  grand  chancellor  of  Castile, 
besides  his  immense  revenues,  could  muster  a 
greater  number  of  vassals  than  any  other  subject, 
and  had  jurisdiction  over  fifteen  large  and  populous 
towns.  One  lady-abbess  of  Castile  had  jurisdiction 
over  fourteen  capital  towns,  and  more  than  fifty 
smaller  places,  and  ranked  next  to  the  queen  in 
dignity.  Amusing  and  almost  incredible  stories 
are  told  of  the  luxurious  banquetings  of  the  nobles 
and  prelates,  while  the  king  had  often  neither 
money  nor  credit.  One  bond  of  union  alone  ex- 
isted between  prince  and  people.  Hand  to  hand 
they  joined  against  the  infidel,  but  every  man's 
hand  was  also  against  his  neighbor ;  and  when  at 
length  the  Moors  were  repulsed  within  the  king- 
dom of  Granada,  and  nearly  a  century  of  long 
minorities,  or  now  weak  and  now  vicious  rule,  \vas 
the  fate  of  Castile,  bitterly  came  then  to  be  felt  the 
evil  effects  of  such  an  unnatural  division  of  inter- 
ests. The  sacred  name  of  law  became  a  by-word. 
Rapine,  murder,  and  incendiarism  spread  terror 
and  desolation  through  the  land.  The  insolent 


ISABEL  THE   CATHOLIC.  143 

nobles  not  only  waged  open  war  with  each  other, 
but  converted  their  castles  into  dens  of  robbers, 
plundering  tlu«  traveler,  and  publicly  selling  his 
property  in  the  cities.  One  robber  chieftain  carried 
mi  an  infamous  traffic  with  the  Moors,  selling  to 
them  as  slaves  Christian  prisoners  of  both  sexes. 
Every  farm  (dehesa,  meaning  protected  ground) 
was  a  fortress,  and  it  was  in  nearly  hopeless  des- 
pondency that  the  agriculturist  committed  the  seed 
to  the  earth.  So  shameless  was  the  adulteration 
of  the  coin,  that  the  most  common  article  was  en- 
hanced  four  and  even  six  fold  in  value.  One  sov- 
ereign tried  oppressive  acts,  a  return  to  arbitrary 
taxation,  and  interference  with  freedom  of  election; 
while  another  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  groans  of 
\\\<  people  by  giving  himself  up  to  the  chase.  Such 
at  the  birth  of  Isabel  was  the  wretched  state  of  the 
fertile  and  lieautiful  Castile. 

At  Madrigal,  a  town  of  Old  Castile,  on  the  22d 
of  April,  ll.")i,  was  born  Isabel,  daughter  of  Juan 
II.,  by  his  second  consort,  a  Princess  of  Portugal. 
fither  dying  \\ln-n  she  was  in  her  fourth  year, 
she,  and  her  brother,  Alfonso,  who  was  two  years 
younger,  lived  in  the  strictest  retirement  with  their 
mother,  the  widowed  queen;  and  the  state  of  seclu- 
sion and  even  privation  in  which  she  is  said  to  have 
passed  the  first  ten  years  of  her  life,  may  account 
for  the  firmness,  as  the  rigid  practices  of  devotion, 
from  the  example  of  her  mother,  for  the  zeal, 
sprinpn^  up  into  bigotry  and  bitter  persecution, 
by  which  she  was  afterward  so  distinguished. 


144  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

When  in  her  seventh  year,  it  was  agreed  she  should 
marry  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Aragon,  who  was  one 
year  younger,  both  of  them  the  children  of  second 
marriages,  and  neither  heir  apparent  to  the  two 
kingdoms.  Many  events  intervened  to  interrupt 
this  project,  and  France,  Portugal,  and  England 
sought  her  alliance.  She  was  also  on  the  point  of 
being  sacrificed  to  an  ambitious  and  dissolute  sub- 
ject, when  relieved  by  his  death.  Her  biographers 
extol  the  wisdom  and  prudence  of  her  reply  when 
only  thirteen,  to  a  proposal  for  marrying  her  to  the 
King  of  Portugal,  a  widower,  with  heirs  to  his 
throne,  that  a  princess  of  Castile  could  not  be  dis- 
posed of  in  marriage  without  the  consent  of  the 
cortes.  The  weak  rule  of  her  brother  Enrique, 
doubts  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  his  daughter,  the 
death  of  her  brother,  Alfonso,  caused  an  offer  of 
the  crown  to  be  made  to  her,  which  she  rejected, 
declaring  she  would  lay  no  claim  to  the  title  so  long 
as  its  present  possessor  lived.  Resolving,  however, 
to  be  no  longer  thwarted  in  her  desire  of  marrying 
Ferdinand,  who  had  been  long  carrying  on  a  ro- 
mantic courtship,  faithfully  recorded  in  the  decades 
of  the  ancient  chronicler  Palencia,  she  eluded  the 
vigilance  of  the  king's  spies,  and  protected  by  a 
body  of  troops,  under  the  escort  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Toledo,  she  fled  to  Valladolid,  whence  the  prince 
lost  no  time  in  following  her,  traveling  with  only 
five  attendants,  and  in  strict  disguise,  sometimes 
acting  as  servant  to  his  companions. 

The  first  interview   realized    the    expectations 


1SARI  I.    Till:    CATHOLIC.  145 

finned  on  both  sides.  Isabel  was  then  in  hernine- 
te.-nth  year,  ami  is  described  as  inheriting  from 
Catharine  of  Lancaster  blue  eyes,  auburn  liair,  and 
a  lair  complexion;  her  face  regular  and  pleasing, 
rather  than  indicating  any  very  high  order  of  intel- 
while  Ferdinand,  though  a  year  younger,  \vas 
of  manly  form,  his  limbs  strengthened  by  hard- 
ship and  e\crci>c,  his  features  regular  and  hand- 
some, the  dark-brown  hair  on  his  ample  forehead 
somewhat  thinned  from  the  helmet  he  had  worn 
from  his  infancy.  The  prince  was  greatly  inferior 
in  education  to  Isabel.  A  soldier  from  his  child- 
hood, his  attainments  were  limited  to  reading  and 
writing;  and  so  great  was  his  poverty,  ho  had  to 
borrow  money  for  the  expenses  of  the  nuptials, 
iiutierre  de  Cardenas,  who,  on  the  entrance  of  the 
prince,  was  the  tir>t  to  point  him  out  to  Isabel,  ex- 
claiming, u  Kse  es,  CM-  c>"  (tins  is  he),  was  permit- 
ted to  bear  on  his  shield  the  letters  SS,  being  like 
to  the  sound  of  thr-e  words  in  Spanish. 

The  marriage  was  celebrated  on  the  19th  of  Oc- 
tober,   1400,   in  the   presence  of  Isabel's  two  prin- 
cipal adherents,  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo  and  tin; 
Admiral  ot'Ca-tilc,  who  was  also  Ferdinand's  grand- 
father, and  an  assemblage  of  more  than  2,000  per- 
sons.    The  young  pair  being  within  the  forbidden 
if  consanguinity,  and  the  Pope  in  the  in- 
tsofthe  king,  a  bull  of  di-pcn>ation  was  forged 
by  the   king   of  Aragon  and    the   archbishop,   the 
discovery  of  which  was  a  shock  to  Isabel,  to  wh<>-,- 
honest  mind  everything  like  artifice  was  abhorrent, 
10 


146  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

and  she  could  only  console  herself  tJiat  it  was  in 
good  faith  she  had  acted.  The  princess  had  long 
before  this  been  acknowledged  by  the  king,  her 
brother,  as  heir  to  the  crown,  and  it  was  now 
agreed  that  she  and  Ferdinand  should  reign  jointly, 
but  all  essential  power  was  vested  in  her,  the  prince 
not  even  being  allowed  to  quit  the  kingdom  with- 
out her  consent.  As  future  queen  of  Aragon,  a 
magnificent  dower  was  settled  on  her.  She  lost 
no  time  in  informing  the  king,  her  brother,  in  the 
most  respectful  terms,  of  the  step  she  had  taken, 
but  his  only  reply  was,  that  "  he  would  lay  the 
matter  before  his  council." 

The  weak  rule  of  Enrique  lasted  yet  five  years, 
during  which  public  favor  fluctuated  between  Isa- 
bel and  his  daughter,  whom  he  before  his  death 
declared  to  be  legitimate,  although  he  had  formerly 
acknowledged  Isabel  as  his  heir.  But  the  cortes 
never  having  revoked  the  allegiance  they  had  sworn 
to  her,  when  the  news  reached  her  at  Segovia  of 
the  king's  death,  she  at  once  caused  herself  to  be 
proclaimed  queen,  Ferdinand  being  then  absent  in 
Aragon.  Mounted  on  a  white  jennet,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  the  public  square,  where  a  throne  had 
been  erected  on  a  platform,  on  ascending  which, 
the  royal  standard  was  unfurled,  and  the  herald 
cried,  "  Castile,  Castile,  for  the  King  Don  Fer- 
nando, and  his  consort  the  Queen  Donna  Isabel ;" 
after  which  simple  ceremony,  she  returned  thanks 
in  the  principal  church,  and  the  people  swore  alle- 
o-iauce  to  her,  but  not  to  the  absent  Ferdinand; 


I>AI:KI.  THK  CATHOLIC.  147 

nor  does  it  appear  that  she  demanded  this,  which 
••ally  di-pleased  him,  that  he  said  to  Palencia, 
"  Alfonso,  thy  learning  far  exceeds  mine ;  tell  me 
<lid>t  ever  read  in  thy  histories  of  any  woman  acting 
as  the  queen  has  done  ?  She  writes  to  her  husband 
to  return  at  his  leisure,  and  in  his  absence  causes 
her-elf  to  be  proclaimed  with  pomp  and  cere- 
mony." / 

This  step,  which  shows  the  decided  and  inde-  _ 
pendent  character  of  the  queen,  gave  rise  to  a  dis- 
pute of  great  warmth  ;  but  she  was  too  wary  not 
to  see  that  her  soundest  policy  was  union,  and  with 
infinite  tact  she  sought  to  allay  his  wrath,  and  to 
per<uade  him  that  the  difference  hi  their  authority 
•nly  nominal. 

The  king  of  Portugal  having  espoused  the  cause 
of  the  princess,  there  now  followed  the  war  of  the 
-M-iii,  lasting  nearly  four  years  and  a  half, 
during  which  only  one  serious  battle  was  fought. 
when  the  Portuguese  standard-hearer,  al'ter  losing 
both  his  arms,  held  the  banner  between  his  teeth, 
till  cut  down  by  the  enemy.  The  better  to  carry 
on  the  operations  of  the  war,  the  consorts  separated, 
and  the  queen,  sometimes  endangering  her  health, 
hastened  from  place  to  place,  dictated  dispatches 
addressed  the  soldiers,  showed  great  moderation 
id  victory,  redressed  grievances,  while  maintaining 
with  a  high  hand  her  own  authority,  and  thus  be-  f 
f..re  long  gained  both  the  confidence  and  affections 
of  her  Miliject-!.  For  the  expenses  of  the  war,  the 
"ii  her  a  loan  of  half  the  church  plate 


148  WOMEN    OF    WOKTII. 

an  the  kingdom,  and  she  afterward  carefully  repaid 
the  debt.  The  distractions  of  war  did  not  prevent 
Isabel  from  turning  her  attention  to  the  lawless 
state  of  her  kingdom.  She  instituted,  or  rather 
revived  under  a  different  form,  the  institution  of  the 
Santa  Hermandad,  or  Holy  Brotherhood,  a  kind 
of  rural  police,  consisting  of  4,000  members,  the 
half  of  whom  were  horsemen,  having  power  to  ar- 
rest, try,  and  execute  criminals,  without  respect  of 
persons,  or  appeal  to  any  other  tribunal.  Its  pro- 
ceedings were  at  first  excessively  severe,  and  no 
institution  could  be  better  adapted  to  curb  the 
power  of  the  aristocracy,  and  to  consolidate  that 
of  the  sovereign*  Its  powers  were  increased  or 
modified  as  the  state  of  the  times  demanded ;  but 
the  end  having  been  attained,  it  was  in  1498  shorn 
of  its  powers,  and  dwindled  down, with  some  slight 
changes,  to  the  form  in  which  it  exists  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  as  a  body  of  gendarmerie.  The  queen, 
too,  sat  every  Friday  on  a  chair  of  state,  covered 
with  cloth  of  gold,  to  administer  justice.  She  or- 
dered restitution  of  stolen  property,  and  delin- 
quents were  executed  without  distinction  of  rank, 
which  caused  so  much  consternation  that  more  than 
8,000  persons  fled  from  Seville,  rather  than  stand  a 
trial.  After  a  time,  however,  the  clergy  and  magis- 
trates being  alarmed  at  the  decrease  of  population, 
the  queen,  willing  to  temper  justice  with  lenity, 
published  a  general  amnesty,  on  condition  of  the 
restoration  of  illegally-acquired  property.  She  de- 
prived of  their  possessions  and  privileges  all  the 


l-U'.KL   THE   CATHOLIC.  149 

nobles  who  had  taken  up  arms  against  her ;  amongst 
others  her  former  po \verful  adherent  the  archbishop 
of  Toledo,  whose  defection  nothing  could  induce 
her  to  pardon.  She  well  knew  how  to  choose  and 
reward  wise  and  faithful  counselors  ;  and  her  fame 
would  indeed  have  been  stainless,  were  it  not  for 
the  dark  and  remorseless  bigotry  which  caused  her 
to  establish  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  whose 
frightful  sway  in  the  space  of  eighteen  years  des- 
troyed 8,800  of  her  subjects  by  fire,  otherwise  tor- 
turing and  punishing  more  than  96,000.  It  is  said 
that  her  confessor  predicted  she  would  be  queen 
of  Castile  while  yet  her  two  brothers  lived,  and 
that  she  promised  on  its  fulfilment  to  extirpate 
heresy  from  the  land.  Of  the  horrors  of  the  Inqui- 
Mtion,  no  detail  is  needed  here.  To  Isabel  belongs 
the  praise  of  restoring  peace  and  order  in  her  dis- 
traeted  kingdom.  But  no  sooner  had  her  subjects 
sheathed  their  swords,  than  she  unsheathed  again>t 
them  one  which  treacherously  pierced  their  sides. 
With  one  hand  she  raised  and  protected  prostrate 
industry,  whil-t  with  the  other  she  dealt  against  it 
a  blow  which  paraly/.ed  its  energies,  the  effects  of 
which  are  still  felt  in  that  fair  and  goodly,  dark, 
and  bigoted  land. 

It  is  a  relief  to  turn  from  such  a  picture,  and 
behold  the  queen  the  joyful  mother  of  a  son  ;  which 
event  took  place  at  Seville,  in  June,  1478,  after  an 
:il  of  -.-veil  yean  from  the  birth  of  her  only 
other  child,  a  daughter.  The  child  was  chri>tfn«-d 
Juan,  and  we  would  willingly  tell  of  the  three  davs' 


150  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

rejoicings,  and  how  at  the  baptism  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  was  hung  with  satin,  and  the  chapel 
with  brocade  ;  how  the  royal  babe  was  carried 
under  a  canopy  of  rich  brocade  ;  and  IIOAV  the  god- 
mother wore  a  tabard  of  crimson  silk,  lined  with 
damask,  which  she  afterward  gave  to  the  king's 
fool,  and  a  rich  brocaded  kirtle,  embroidered  with 
seed  and  large  pearls,  with  many  other  raree  shows 
and  wonders,  but  that  space  would  fail  us  to  re- 
count them.  Soon  after  this  event,  the  king  and 
queen  made  a  progress  through  part  of  her  do- 
minions, Isabel  showing  her  usual  firmness  and 
intrepidity ;  enforcing  relaxed  laws ;  appointing  ex- 
traordinary judges;  on  one  occasion,  to  punish  an 
outrage,  taking  horse  alone  amidst  torrents  of  rain, 
before  the  captains  of  her  guard  had  time  to  follow 
her. 

In  Gallicia  alone,  where  anarchy  still  ruled,  fifty 
towering  strongholds,  from  which  robber  chieftains 
descended  like  birds  of  prey  to  levy  black  mail 
on  the  hapless  district  beneath,  were  razed  to  the 
ground,  and  no  less  than  fifteen  hundred  malefac- 
tors compelled  to  fly. 

In  January,  1479,  died  Juan,  King  of  Aragon. 
And  now  proud  Castile  saw  herself  mistress  of 
nearly  the  whole  of  Spain.  Aragon,  and  indeed 
all  Spain,  and  even  Portugal,  had  at  one  tune  or 
other  done  homage  to  Castile  for  their  dominions, 
and  this,  with  the  sense  of  owing  their  conquests 
to  their  personal  bravery,  had  induced  among  the 
nobles  a  proud  and  inflexible  bearing,  scarcely  to 


ISABEL   THE   CATHOUC.  151 

be  curbed  b\  the  iron  rule  of  the  Austrian  dyniisty, 
and  which  drew  from  the  Venetian  ambassador  in 
the  time  of  Charles  V.  tin-  remark,  that  "if  their 
]M>\\vr  were  o<jual  to  their  pride,  I  he  world  would 
not  be  able  to  withstand  them." 

The  Inquisition  being  now  firmly  established  in 
Ca-tile,  Ferdinand  introduced  it  into  his  own  do- 
minions which  so  maddened  the  people,  that  they 
arose  and  slew  the  chief  inquisitor  on  the  very 
steps  of  the  altar.  But  torrents  of  blood  were 
made  to  flow  for  that  whieh  had  been  shed  on  con- 
secrated ground,  and  the  galling  yoke  only  weighed 
the  more  heavily.  Such  had  been  the  horrors  ex- 
hibit fd  in  Castile,  that  the  Pope  himself  sent  to 
remonstrate,  but  in  this,  and  in  all  matters  ecclesi- 
astical, Isabel  chose  to  be  her  own  pope,  as  has 
been  said  of  our  Henry  VIIL,  herself  nominating 
to  every  benefice,  which  when  the  Pope  attempted 
to  do,  she  forced  him  by  the  most  vigorous  resist- 
ance to  submit  to  her  will.  She  thus  bound  bur- 
thens on  her  subjects  which  she  herself  refused  to 
touch  with  one  of  her  fingers. 

In  1479  was  born  the  unfortunate  Juana;  about 
rt  after,  Maria;  and,  in  1485,  the  equally 
unfortunate  Catherine,  e.-illed  Catherine  of  Aragon, 
wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  the  youngest  child  of  tho 
sovereigns.  In  1489,  Isabel,  the  eldest  and  best- 
bdoved  daughter  of  the  queen,  w:.*  betrothed  to 
the  heir  of  the  Portuguese  sovereign,  and  with 
ama/.ing  magnificence,  considering  the  expense  of 
the  war,  to  defray  which  the  queen  had  once  ac- 


152  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

tually  pawned  her  jewels.  The  fetes  continued  for 
a  fortnight,  the  queen  and  the  betrothed  bride 
appearing  at  them  all,  dressed  in  cloth  of  gold, 
attended  by  seventy  noble  ladies,  attired  in  brocade 
and  resplendent  with  jewels.  One  historian  says ; 
"  The  principal  articles  of  the  trousseau  were  four 
costly  necklaces  of  gold,  set  with  pearls  and  pre- 
cious stones;  rich  tapestries,  woven  of  silk  and 
gold ;  twenty  silk  and  brocade  robes  ;  four  of  drawn 
golden  threads ;  and  six  of  silk,  embroidered  with 
pearls  and  gold."  The  whole  wardrobe  estimated 
at  two  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  florins.  In 
eight  months  this  brilliant  bride  Avas  a  widow,  and 
returned  to  Castile  in  a  litter  hung  with  black. 

The  care  the  queen  bestowed  on  the  education 
of  her  children — indeed,  the  whole  tenor  of  domes- 
tic life — cannot  be  too  highly  lauded.  What  she 
did  could  only  be  achieved  by  boundless  energy, 
and  never-failing  resources.  While  actively  en- 
gaged in  war,  and  sometimes  sitting  up  all  night 
long  engaged  in  state  affairs,  she  neglected  none 
of  her  private  duties.  She  carefully  cultivated  the 
intellects  of  her  children,  whose  dispositions  were 
ijnild  and  amiable,  and  sought  to  eradicate  every 
germ  of  evil.  Her  daughters,  like  herself,  were 
w<ell  yersed  in  Latin,  in  the  solid  branches  of  educa- 
tion, as  well  as  in  ah1  the  elegant  accomplishments. 
That  the  prince  might  have  the  spur  of  emulation, 
as  well  as  the  benefit  of  private  tuition,  she  caused 
ten  noble  youths,  five  of  them  his  own  age,  and 
five  somewhat  older,  to  be  brought  up  with  him, 


ISABEL  THE   CATHOLIC.  153 

partaking  of  all  his  a-1  and  sharing  in  all 

These  youths,  and  all  who  were 
brought  into  contact  with  him,  and  even  hi*  pages, 
so  carefully  selected,  that  almost  all  of  them 
were,  in  after  life,  distinguished  by  M>me  superior 
ience,  while  the  fond  object  of  so  many  hopes 
lay   buried   in   an  early  grave.      At   the   age   of 
eighteen,  a  separate  establishment  was  formed  for 
him,  and  a  council,  in  imitation  of  the  council  of 
.  assembled  round  him,  in  which  public  attairs 
discussed.    The  profound  wisdom  of  all  this 
>  no  comment     The  queen  also  sought  to  in- 
spire the  young  nobility  with  a  taste  for  learning, 
and  invited  to  her  court  all,  both  native  and  foreign, 
famed  for  their  scholarship.     The  following  year, 
the  prince  was  married  to  Margaret,  daughter  of 
Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Germany,  afterward  the 
celebrated  governess  of  the  Netherlands,  and  at 
the  same  time  her  brother,  the  Archduke  Philip, 
to  the   Princess  Juana;  but  sadly  the  eye  turns 
from  the  pa  ire  which  records  the  fotiviii.'s  cele- 
brated on  the  occasion  of  these  ill-fated  unions,  for 
dismal  reverses  are  at  hand.     Indeed,  from  this 
time  to  its  close,  the  life  of  the  queen  presents  an 
almost  constant  succession  of  domestic  distresses, 
only  varied  by  a  few  brilliant  triumphs;  her  many 
private  \irtm-s  Millied,  also,  by  more  than  one  pub- 
l'>.    her  unwearied  encouragement   and 
protection  of  Christopher  Columbus,  she  added  a 
new  world  to  her  dominions.     Hut  she  signed  an 
edict   for  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews,  which  wag 


154:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH, 

carried  out  with  merciless  severity ;  the  creatures 
of  luxury  dying  by  the  wayside ;  the  hand  of  the 
Christian  restrained  who  would  have  extended  a 
cup  of  cold  water  to  the  sufferer;  mothers  and 
their  new-born  infants  perishing  from  the  pangs  of 
hunger.  True,  they  were  permitted  to  sell  their 
property,  but  this  mercy  was  in  reality  a  mockery, 
for,  the  time  being  limited,  we  are  told,  "  a  house 
was  given  for  an  ass,  and  a  vineyard  for  a  piece  of 
cloth."  Her  Christian  subjects  were  forbidden, 
under  severe  penalties,  from  giving  shelter  or  as- 
sistance to  the  Jews,  who  had  made  a  last  effort 
to  avert  the  blow,  by  offering  to  the  queen  thirty 
thousand  ducats  for  the  expenses  of  the  late  war, 
and  the  sovereigns  were  hesitating  whether  to 
accept  their  tempting  bribe,  when  the  chief  inquis- 
itor, abruptly  entering  the  apartment,  drew  a  cru- 
cifix from  his  bosom,  saying,  "  Judas  Iscariot  sold 
the  Saviour  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver ;  your  High- 
nesses are  now  selling  him  for  thirty  thousand. 
Behold  him  here ;  take  him  and  barter  him  as  you 
will ;"  and  the  insane  fanatic  threw  the  symbol  on 
the  table,  and  withdrew.  Who  need  tell  that 
mercy  fled  away,  and  fanaticism  obtained  the  vic- 
tory? 

From  the  commencement  of  their  reign,  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabel  had  shown  an  earnest  solicitude 
for  the  encouragement  of  commerce  and  nautical 
science,  as  is  evinced  by  a  variety  of  regulations 
which,  however  imperfect,  from  the  misconception 
of  the  true  principles  of  trade  in  that  day,  are  suf- 


I~.M:KI.  TIIK  CATHOUC.  155 

<ly  indicative  of  the  ilisjMi>itions  of  the  govern- 
ment. I'ndcr  them,  an«l  indeed  under  their  pre- 
deoessor>  :i>  far  hack  as  Henry  tlie  Third,  a  con-id- 
erable  t  rathe  had  been  carried  on  with  the-  western 
of  Africa,  from  which  gold  du-t  and  slaves 

imported  into  the  city  of  Seville.  The  annalist 
of  that  city  notices  the  repeated  interference  of 
Isabel  in  behalf  of  these  unfortunate  beings,  by 
ordinances  tending  to  secure  them  a  more  equal 
protection  of  the  laws,  or  opening  such  social  ind ul- 
might  mitigate  the  hardships  of  their 
condition.  A  misunderstanding  gradually  arose 

•  •en  the  Mibjects  of  Castile  and  Portugal,  in 
relation  to  their  respective  rights  of  discovery  and 
commerce  on  the  African  coast,  which  promised  a 
fruitful  source  of  collision  between  the  two  crowns ; 
but  which  was  happily  adjusted  by  an  article  in 
the  treaty  of  1479,  that  terminated  the  war  of  the 
succes-ion.  I'.y  this  it  was  settled  that  the  right 
of  traffic  and  of  discovery  on  the  western  coast  of 
Africa  should  be  exclusively  reserved  to  the  Portu- 
guese,  who  in  their  turn  should  iv-i<_rn  all  claims 
on  the  Canaries  to  the  crown  of  Castile.  The 
Spaniards,  thus  excluded  from  further  progress  to 

<>uth,  seemed  to  have  no  other  opening  left  for 
adventure  than  the  hitherto  untraveled  re- 
gions of  the  great  wi  -tern  ocean.  Fortunately,  at 
this  juncture,  an  individual  appeared  among  them, 
in  the  person  of  Christopher  Columbus,  endowed 
with  capacity  for  stimulating  them  to  'this  heroic 
rprise,  and  conducting  it  to  a  glorious  issue. 


156  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

Some  of  the  most  striking  features  cf  that  great 
enterprise  we  shall  here  bring  out.  Using  for  that 
purpose,  in  a  somewhat  condensed  form,  the  graphic 
narrative  of  Mr.  Prescott,  the  painstaking  and  im- 
partial historian  of  this  notable  reign. 

Columbus  was  a  native  of  Genoa,  of  humble 
parentage,  though  perhaps  honorable  descent.  He 
was  instructed  in  his  early  youth  at  Pavia,  where 
he  acquired  a  strong  relish  for  the  mathematical 
sciences,  in  which  he  subsequently  excelled.  At 
the  age  of  fourteen,  he  engaged  in  a  seafaring  life, 
which  he  followed  with  little  intermission  till  1470. 

Filled  with  lofty  anticipations  of  achieving  a  dis- 
covery which  would  settle  a  question  of  such  mo- 
ment, so  long  involved  in  obscurity,  Columbus 
submitted  the  theory  on  which  he  had  founded  his 
belief  in  the  existence  of  a  western  route, to  King 
John  the  Second,  of  Portugal.  Here  he  was 
doomed  to  encounter  for  the  first  time  the  embar- 
rassments and  mortifications  which  so  often  obstruct 
the  conceptions  of  genius,  too  sublime  for  the  age 
in  which  they  are  formed.  After  a  long  and  fruitless 
negotiation,  and  a  dishonorable  attempt  on  the 
part  of  the  Portuguese  to  avail  themselves  clandes- 
tinely, of  his  information,  he  quitted  Lisbon  in  dis- 
gust, determined  to  submit  his  proposals  to  the 
Spanish  sovereigns,  relying  on  their  reputed  char- 
acter for  wisdom  and  enterprise. 

The  period  of  his  arrival  in  Spain  being  the 
latter  part  of  1484,  would  seem  to  have  been  the 
most  unpropitious  possible  to  his  design.  The 


i-.u:i.i.    1111:  I-ATIIOLIC.  157 

nation  was  then  in  tin-  heat  of  the  Moorish  war, 
:in«l  the  sovereigns-  were  unintermittingly  engaged, 
as  we  have  seen,  in  prosecuting  their  campaigns,  or 
in  active  preparation  for  them.  The  large  expen- 
diture inri.lciit  to  this,  exhausted  all  their  resources; 
and  indeed  the  engrossing  character  of  this  domes- 
tic conquest  left  them  little  leisure  for  indulging  in 
dreams  of  distant  and  doubtful  discovery. 

"dinand  and  Isabel,  desirous  of  obtaining  the 
opinion  of  the  most  competent  judges  on  the  merits 
of  Columlius's  theory,  referred  him  to  a  council 

'••I  liy  Talavera,  from  the  most  eminent  schol- 
ars of  the  kingdom,  chiefly  ecclesiastics,  whose  pro- 
fession embodied  most  of  the  science  of  that  day. 
Such  was  the  apathy  exhibited  by  this  learned  con- 
clave, and  so  numerous  the  impedimenta  suggested 
by  dullness,  prejudice,  or  skepticism,  that  years 
glided  away  before  it  came  to  a  decision.  During 
this  time,  Columbus  appears  to  have  remained  in 
idance  on  the  court,  bearing  arms  occasionally 
in  the  campaigns,  and  experiencing  from  the  sov- 
ereigns an  unusual  degree  of  deference  and  personal 
attention;  an  evidence  of  which  is  afforded  in  the 
disbursements  repeatedly  made  by  the  royal  order 
for  his  private  expenses  and  in  the  instructions 

I  to  the  municipalities  of  the  ditlerent  towns 
in  Andalusia,  to  supply  him  gratuitously  with  lodg- 
ing and  other  personal  accommodations. 

At  length,  however,  Columbus,  wearied  out  by 
this  painful  procrastination,  pressed  the  court  for  a 
definite  answer  to  his  proposition-  ;  when  he  was 


158  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

informed  that  the  council  of  Salamanca  pronounced 
his  scheme  to  be  "  vain,  impracticable,  and  resting 
on  grounds  too  weak  to  merit  the  support  of  the 
government."  Many  in  the  council,  however,  were 
too  enlightened  to  acquiesce  in  this  sentence  of  the 
majority;  and  the  authority  of  these  individuals 
had  undoubtedly  great  weight  with  the  sovereigns, 
who  softened  the  verdict  of  the  junto  by  an  assur- 
ance to  Columbus,  that,  "  although  they  were  too 
much  occupied  at  present  to  embark  in  his  under- 
taking, yet,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  they 
should  find  both  time  and  inclination  to  treat  with 
him."  Such  was  the  ineffectual  result  of  Colum- 
bus's  long  and  painful  solicitation ;  and,  far  from 
receiving  the  qualified  assurance  of  the  sovereigns 
in  mitigation  of  their  refusal,  he  seems  to  have  con- 
sidered it  as  peremptory  and  final.  In  great  de- 
jection of  mind,  therefore,  but  without  further 
delay,  he  quitted  the  court,  and  bent  his  way  to 
the  south,  with  the  apparently  almost  desperate 
intent  of  seeking  out  some  other  patron  to  his  un- 
dertaking. 

Without  wasting  time  in  further  solicitation, 
Columbus  prepared,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  bid 
adieu  to  Spain  (1491),  and  carry  his  proposals  to 
the  king  of  France,  from  whom  he  had  received 
a  letter  of  encouragement  while  detained  in  Anda- 
lusia. 

His  progress,  however,  was  arrested  at  the  con- 
vent of  La  Rabida,  which  he  visited  previous  to  his 
departure,  by  his  friend  the  guardian,  who  pre- 


ISABKL   THE   CATHOLIC.  159 

i  on  him  to  postpone  his  journey  till  another 
etlort  had  been  made  to  move  the  Spanish  court  in 
his  favor.     For  this  purpose  the  worthy  ecclesiastic 
undertook  an  expedition  in  person  to  the  ncwly- 
iy  of  Santa  Fe,  where  the  sovereigns  lay 
encamped   he  fore  Granada.      Juan  Perez  had  for- 
merly l>eeu  confessor  of  Isabel,  and  \vas  held  in 
great  eonsideration  by  her  for  his  excellent  quali- 
On    arriving    at    the    camp    he    was    readily 
admitted  to  an  audience,  when  he  pressed  the  suit 

•lumbus  with  all  the  earne-tm—  and  reasoning 

of  which   he  was  capable.     The  friar's  eloquence 

-npported  by  that  of  several  eminent  persons 

whom  Columbus,  during  his  long  residence  in  the 

country,  had   interested  in  his  project,  and   who 

1  with  sincere  regret  the  prospect  of  its 
abandonment.  Their  representation-,  combined 
with  the  opportune  season  of  the  application,  oc- 
curring :it  the  moment  when  the  approaching  ter 
initiation  of  the  Moorish  war  allowed  room  for 
interest  in  other  objects,  wrought  so  favorable  a 
in  the  dispositions  of  the  sovereigns,  that 

consented  to  resume  the  negotiation  with 
Columbus.  An  invitation  was  accordingly  sent  to 
him  to  repair  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a  considerable  sum 
provided  for  his  suitable  equipment,  and  his  ex- 
penses on  the  road. 

Columbus,  who  lost  no  time  in  availing  himself 
of  this  welcome  intelligence,  arris  cd  at  the  camp 
in  season  to  witness  the  snrrend-T  of  (Iranada, 
when  every  heart,  swelling  with  exultation  at  the 


160  WOMEN  OF   WORTH. 

triumphant  termination  of  the  war,  was  naturally 
disposed  to  enter  with  greater  confidence  on  a  new 
career  of  adventure.  At  his  interview  with  the 
king  and  queen,  he  once  more  exhibited  the  argu- 
ments on  which  his  hypothesis  was  founded.  He 
then  endeavored  to  stimulate  the  cupidity  of  his 
audience,  by  picturrag  the  realms  of  Mangi  and 
Cathay,  which  he  confidently  expected  to  reach  by 
this  western  route,  in  all  the  barbaric  splendors 
which  had  been  shed  over  them  by  the  lively  fancy 
of  Marco  Polo  and  other  travelers  of  the  middle 
ages ;  and  he  concluded  with  appealing  to  a  higher 
principle,  by  holding  out  the  prospect  of  extending 
the  empire  of  the  Cross  over  nations  of  benighted 
heathen,  while  he  proposed  to  devote  the  profits 
of  his  enterprise  to  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre. This  last  ebullition,  which  might  well  have 
passed  for  fanaticism  in  a  later  day,  and  given  a 
visionary  tinge  to  his  whole  project,  was  not  quite 
so  preposterous  in  an  age  in  which  the  spirit  of  the 
crusades  might  be  said  still  to  linger,  and  the  ro- 
mance of  religion  had  not  yet  been  dispelled  by 
sober  reason.  The  more  temperate  suggestion  of 
the  diffusion  of  the  gospel  was  well  suited  to  affect 
Isabel,  in  whose  heart  the  principle  of  devotion 
was  deeply  seated,  and  who,  in  all  her  undertak- 
ings, seems  to  have  been  far  less  sensible  to  the 
vulgar  impulses  of  avarice  or  ambition,  than  to  any 
argument  connected,  however  remotely,  with  the 
interests  of  religion. 

Amidst  all  these  propitious  demonstrations  to- 


I-AIU  I.    TilK    (  A1I1..I.I.'.  I'll 

.minis,  :in  obstacle  unexpectedly  aro-e  in 
tlu-  nature  <>t'  his  demands,  which  stipulated  i«>r 
himself  and  heirs  tin-  title  ami  authority  of  admiral 
ami  vi'-.-:-oy  over  all  land-  discovered  by  him,  with 
ie  profits.  This  was  deemed  wholly 
taadmMB&bl&  Ferdinand,  who  had  looked  with  cold 
distrust  on  tin-  expedition  froiu  tin-  first,  was  sup- 
ported by  the  remonstrances  of  Tala\  era,  the  new 
archbishop  of  Granada,  who  declared  that  "such 
demands  >avi>red  of  the  hi«;Iie<t  tle^ree  of  arro- 
,1  would  he  iiMluvoininir  in  tlieir  High- 
nesses to  ifiMiit  to  a  rie.-dy  t'orci^ii  adventurer." 
Columhiis,  iiowever,  steadily  resisted  every  attempt 
to  induce  him  to  modity  his  propositions.  On  this 
ground  the  conferences  were  ahruptly  hroken  oftj 
and  he  once  more  turned  his  hack  upon  the  Span- 
ish court,  resolved  rather  to  forego  his  splendid 
anticipation-  of  discovery  at  the  very  moment 
w  hen  the  career  so  long  sought  was  thrown  open 
to  him,  than  surrender  one  of  the  honorahle  di>- 
t'mction^  due  [»  his  services.  This  la>t  act  is 
perhaps,  the  nio>t  remarkahle  exhibition  in  his 
whole  iife,  of  that  proud,  unyielding  spirit  which 
.'.led  him  through  so  many  years  of  trial,  and 
enabled  him  at  length  to  achieve  his  great  enter- 
pri-e,  in  the  face  of  every  obstacle  which  man  and 
nature  iiad  opposed  to  it. 

The  misunderstanding  was  not  sutlered  to  he  of 

long  duration.     ('o!uinhu-\  tViend-,  and  c^p"cially 

Loui^  de  St.  Angel,   remonstrated  with   the   «|ueen 

on  these  proceedings  in  the  nu»t   earnest  manner. 

11 


162  WOMEN:  OF  WORTH. 

He  frankly  told  her  that  Columbus's  demands,  if 
high,  were  at  least  contingent  on  success,  when 
they  would  be  well  deserved ;  that,  if  he  failed,  he 
required  nothing.  He  expatiated  on  his  qualifica- 
tions for  the  undertaking,  so  signal  as  to  insure  in 
all  probability  the  patronage  of  some  other  mon- 
arch, who  would  reap  the  fruits  of  his  discoveries : 
and  he  ventured  to  remind  the  queen  that  her 
present  policy  was  not  in  accordance  with  the 
magnanimous  spirit  which  had  hitherto  made  her 
the  ready  patron  of  great  and  heroic  enterprise. 
Far  from  being  displeased,  Isabel  was  moved  by 
his  honest  eloquence.  She  contemplated  the  pro- 
posals of  Columbus  in  their  true  light ;  and,  refus- 
ing to  hearken  any  longer  to  the  suggestions  of 
cold  and  timid  counselors,  she  gave  way  to  the 
natural  impulses  of  her  own  noble  and  generous 
heart.  "  I  will  assume  the  undertaking,"  said  she, 
"  for  my  crown  of  Castile,  and  am  ready  to  pawn 
my  jewels  to  defray  the  expenses  of  it,  if  the  funds 
in  the  treasury  shall  be  found  inadequate."  The 
treasury  had  been  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb  by 
the  late  war ;  but  the  receiver,  St.  Angel,  advanced 
the  sums  required  from  the  Aragonese  revenues 
deposited  in  his  hands.  Aragon,  ho \vever,  was  not 
considered  as  adventuring  in  the  expedition,  the 
charges  and  emoluments  of  which  Avere  reserved 
exclusively  for  Castile. 

Columbus,  who  was  overtaken  by  the  royal  mes- 
senger at  a  few  leagues'  distance  only  from  Granada, 
experienced  the  most  courteous  reception  on  his 


I8ABKL    THK    CATHOLIC.  103 

return  to  S:uita  I-V,  \\  'here  a  definitive  arrangement 
wa<  concluded  with  the  Spanish  sovereigns,  April 
17th,  1  I 

No  sooner  were  the  arrangements  completed, 
than  Ivibel  prepared  with  her  characteristic  prompt- 
in^  to  forward  the  expedition  by  the  most  efficient 
measures;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  :3d  of  August, 
1492,  the  intrepid  navigator,  bidding  adieu  to  the 
Old  World,  launched  forth  on  that  unfathonicd 
waste  of  waters  where  no  sail  had  ever  been  spread 
before. 

While  on  a  review  of  the  circumstances,  we  are 
led  more  and  more  to  admire  the  constancy  and 
unconquerable  spirit  which  carried  Columbus  vic- 
torious through  all  the  difficulties  of  his  undertak- 
ing, we  mu>t  remember,  in  justice  to  Isabel,  that, 
although  tardily,  she  did  in  fact  furnish  the  re- 
pource^  essential  to  its  execution;  that  she  under- 
took the  eiit«Tpri>e  when  it  had  been  explicitly  de- 
c-lined by  other  powers,  and  when,  probaUy,  none 
other  of  that  age  would  have  been-  found  to  coun- 
tenance it  ;  and  that,  after  once  plighting  her  faith 
to  Columbus,  she  became  his  steady  friend,  »hield- 
nig  liini  against  the  calumnies  of  his  enemies,  n- 
poMi)-_r  in  him  the  most  generous  confidence,  and 
ser\5n<^  him  in  the  most  acceptable  manner,  by 
supplying  ample  resources  for  the  pro-edition  of 
his  glorious  di-coveries. 

r.--in«_r  over  the  well-known  incidents  of  tliis 
memorable  t<»yair«',  «'e  may  remark  in  p-isvjng,  the 
singular  fact,  that  Columbus  sailed  from  "<p  tin  on  a 


164:  WOMEN    OF    WORTir. 

Friday,  discovered  land  on  a  Friday,  and  re-entered 
the  port  of  Palos  on  a  Friday.  These  curious  coin- 
cidences should  have  sufficed,  one  might  think,  to 
dispel,  especially  with  American  mariners,  the 
superstitious  dread,  still  so  prevalent,  of  commen- 
cing a  voyage  on  that  ominous  day.  Let  us  glance 
at  the  scene  of  the  discoverer's  return. 

Great  was  the  agitation  in  the  little  community 
of  Palos,  as  they  beheld  the  well-known  vessel  of 
the  admiral  re-entering  their  harbor.  Their  des- 
ponding imaginations  had  long  since  consigned 
him  to  a  watery  grave ;  for,  in  addition  to  the  pre- 
ternatural horrors  which  hung  over  the  voyage,  they 
had  experienced  the  most  stormy  and  disastrous 
winter  within  the  recollection  of  the  oldest  mariners. 
Most  of  them  had  relatives  or  friends  on  board. 
They  thronged  immediately  to-  the  shore,  to  assure 
themselves  with  their  own  eyes  of  the  truth  of  their 
return.  When  they  beheld  their  faces  once  more, 
and  saw  them  accompanied  by  the  numerous  evi- 
dences which  they  brought  back  of  the  success  of 
the  expedition,  they  burst  forth  in  acclamations  of 
joy  and  gratulation.  They  awaited  the  landing  of 
Columbus,  when  the  whole  population  of  the  place 
accompanied  him  and  his  crew  to  the  principal 
church,  where  solemn  thanksgivings  were  oifered 
up  for  their  return ;  while  every  bell  in  the  village 
sent  forth  a  joyous  peal  in  honor  of  the  glorious 
event.  The  admiral  was  too  desirous  of  presenting 
himself  before  the  sovereigns,  to  protract  his  stay 
long  at  Palos.  He  took  with  him  on  his  journey 


ISABEL  TIIK  CATHOLIC.  165 

specimens  of  the  multifarious  products  of  the  newly- 
1  ivirions.  He  was  accompanied  by  several 
of  the  native  inlanders,  arrayed  in  tlicir  simple  bar- 
baric co-tume,  and  decorated,  as  he  passed  through 
the  principal  cities,  with  collars,  bracelets,  and 
other  ornaments  of  gold,  rudely  ftuhioned  ;  he  ex- 
hibited also  considerable  quantities  of  the  same 
metal  in  dust,  or  in  crude  masses,  numerous  vege- 
table exotics  '  1  of  aromatic  or  medicinal 
virtue,  and  several  kinds  of  quadrupeds  unknown  in 
Europe,  and  birds  whose  varieties  of  ga udy  plumage 
gave  a  brilliant  effect  to  the  pageant.  The  admiral's 
progress  through  the  country  was  everywhere  im- 
peded by  the  multitudes  thronging  forth  to  gaze 
at  the  extraordinary  spectacle,  and  the  more  extra- 
ordinary man,  who,  in  the  emphatic  language  of 
that  time,  which  has  now  lost  its  force  from  its 
familiarity,  first  revealed  the  existence  of  a  "New 
World."  As  he  passed  through  the  busy,  popu- 
lous city  of  Seville,  every  window,  balcony,  and 
housetop,  which  could  afford  a  glimpse  of  him,  ia. 
described  to  have  been  crowded  with  spectators.. 
It  was  the  middle  of  April  before  Columbus  reached; 
r.arci-lona.  The  nobility  and  cavaliers  in  attend-. 
ance,  on  the  court,  together  with  the  authorities  of 
the  city,  came  to  the  gates  to  receive  him,  and 
escorted  him  to  the  royal  presence.  Ferdinand 
an  1  Nabel  were  seat e-d,  with  their  son.  Prince  John, 
under  a  superb  canopy  of  state,  awaiting  his  arrival. 
On  his  approach  they  rose  from  their  seats,  and, 
:iding  their  hands  to  him  to  salute,  caused  him 


166  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

to  be  seated  before  them.  These  were  unprece- 
dented marks  of  condescension  to  a  person  of  Co- 
lumbus's  rank,  in  the  haughty  and  ceremonious 
court  of  Castile.  It  was,  indeed,  the  proudest 
moment  in  the  life  of  Columbus.  He  had  fully  es- 
tablished the  truth  of  his  long-contested  theory,  in 
the  face  of  argument,  sophistry,  sneer,  skepticism, 
and  contempt.  He  had  achieved8  this,  not  by 
chance,  but  by  calculation,  supported  through  the 
most  adverse  circumstances  by  consummate  con- 
duct. The  honors  paid  him,  which  had  hitherto 
been  reserved  only  for  rank,  or  fortune,  or  military 
success,  purchased  by  the  blood  and  tears  of  thous- 
ands, were,  in  his  case,  an  homage  to  intellectual 
power,  successfully  exerted  in  behalf  of  the  noblest 
interest  of  humanity. 

After  a  brief  interval,  the  sovereigns  requested 
from  Columbus  a  recital  of  his  adventures.  His 
manner  was  sedate  and  dignified,  but  warmed  by 
the  glow  of  natural  enthusiasm.  He  enumerated 
the  several  islands  which  he  had  visited,  expatiated 
on  the  temperate  character  of  the  climate,  and  the 
capacity  of  the  soil  for  every  variety  of  agricultural 
production,  appealing  to  the  samples  imported  by 
him  as  evidence  of  their  natural  fruitfulness.  He 
dwelt  more  at  large  on  the  precious  metals  to  be 
found  in  these  islands  ;  which  he  inferred  less  from 
the  specimens  actually  obtained,  than  from  the  uni- 
form testimony  of  the  natives  to  their  abundance 
in  the  unexplored  regions  of  the  interior.  Lastly, 
he  pointed  out  the  wide  scope  afforded  to  Christian 


'••II    -II   *    KKTl-BMI    KK..M    TtlK    "NKW    V  oKlA" 

,nd  »d  l~l~l  w.n  MtW  with  tb^.r  •««,  Prtoc.  John,  no.J.r  .  »p,rb 
o(  bb  ur.nL     ()»  bu  .p,*»rh.  lh,y  m.  f«,  Uwir  Mte.  ud  .i 


f.«.  - 
bin  I. 


nk. •!»»«•.  wklU  Ih.  ><.bM  .tnuM  of  UM 


ISABEL   TIIK    CATHOLIC.  167 

zeal  in  the  illumination  of  a  race  of  men,  whose 
inimls,  far  from  being  wedded  to  any  system  of 
idolatry,  were  prepared,  by  their  extreme  sim- 
plicity, for  the  reception  of  pure  and  uncorrupted 
do.-triiie.  The  last  consideration  touched  Isabel's 
heart  mo>t  sensibly;  and  the  whole  audience, 
kindled  with  various  emotions  by  the  speaker's 
eloquence,  filled  up  the  perspective  with  the  gor- 
geous coloring  of  their  own  fancies,  as  ambition, 
or  avarice,  or  devotional  feeling  predominated  in 
their  bosoms.  When  Columbus  ceased,  the  king 
and  queen,  together  with  all  present,  prostrated 
themselves  on  their  knees  in  grateful  thanksgivings, 
while  the  solemn  strains  of  the  Te  Deum  were 
poured  forth  by  the  choir  of  the  royal  chapel,  as  in 
commemoration  of  some  glorious  victory. 

It  would  be  beside  our  present  purpose  here  to 
enlarge  upon  the  progress  of  discovery  ;  the  trials 
of  the  enthusiastic  sailor  on  his  second,  third,  and 
fourth  voyages  ;  the  misconduct  of  the  colonists  ; 
the  complaints  against  Columbus ;  and  the  igno- 
minious treatment  which  he  received  at  the  hands 
of  the  royal  commissioner  Bobadilla,  before  that 
vain  and  foolMi  man  could  be  withdrawn  from  an 
office  which  he  had  disgraced.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  amid-t  all  his  trials  and  misfortunes  the  illus- 
trious discoverer  was  always  comforted  by  the 
sympathy  of  his  royal  mi-tress.  He  relied,  and  not 
in  vain,  on  the  good  faith  and  kindness  of  Isabel; 
for,  as  an  ancient  CastiKan  writer  remarks:  "She 
had  ever  favored  him  beyond  the  king  her  bus- 


168  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

band,  protecting  his  interests,  and  showing  him 
especial  kindness  and  goodwill." 

In  connection  with  the  grand  episode  in  the 
world's  history,  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  Isabel's 
other  measures  generally  were  characterized  by 
that  practical  good  sense,  without  which  the  most 
brilliant  parts  may  work  more  to>  the  woe  than  to 
the  weal  of  mankind.  Though  engaged  all  her  life 
in  reforms,  she  had  none  of  the  failings  so  com- 
mon in  reformers.  Her  plans,  though  vast,  were 
never  visionary.  The  best  proof  of  this  is,  that  she 
lived  to  see  the  most  of  them  realized. 

She  was  quick  to  discern  objects  of  real  utility. 
She  saw  the  importance  of  the  new  discovery  of 
printing,  and  liberally  patronized  it  from  the  first 
moment  it  appeared.  She  had  none  of  the  exclusive 
local  prejudices  too  common  with  her  countrymen. 
She  drew  talent  from  the  most  remote  quarters  to 
her  dominions  by  munificent  rewards.  She  im- 
ported foreign  artisans  for  her  manufactures ;  for- 
eign engineers  and  officers  for  the  discipline  of  her 
army;  and  foreign  scholars  to  imbue  her  martial 
subjects  with  more  cultivated  tastes.  She  con- 
sulted the  useful  in  all  her  subordinate  regulations ; 
in  her  sumptuary  laws,  for  instance,  directed 
against  the  fashionable  extravagances  of  dress,  and 
the  ruinous  ostentation  so  much  affected  by  the 
Castilians  in  their  weddings  and  funerals.  Lastly, 
she  showed  the  same  perspicacity  in  the  selection 
of  her  agents  ;  well  knowing  that  the  best  measures 
become  bad  in  incompetent  hands. 


ISABEL   T1IK   CATHOLIC,  169 

In  the  beginning  of  1495,  Isabel  lost  her  chief 
coun-cllor  and  great  favorite,  the  Cardinal  Men- 
d« •/.:!,  whom  she  visited  on  his  death-bed,  under- 
taking the  office  of  his  executrix,  and  at  whose 
suggestion  she  named  as  his  successor  Francisco 
Xiinenes — afterward  so  famous — a  humble  friar  of 
tin-  order  of  St.  Francis,  who  had  been  for  some 
time  the  queen's  confessor;  to  whom  we  are  in- 
debted tor  the  great  monastic  reforms  introduced 
into  Spain,  the  queen  herself  aiding  in  the  work  by 
entering  the  different  cloisters,  and,  while  employed 
with  her  needle  and  distaff,  by  the  force  of  her  ex- 
ample and  her  exhortations  proving  to  the  idle  and 
dusipatei  nuns  the  beneficial  effects  of  a  well-spent 
lite.  Cardinal  Ximenes  was  a  man  of  pure  ami 
ascetic  life,  a  stern,  unbending  disposition,  unboun- 
ded fanaticism  and  perseverance,  unscrupulous  in 
tin-  IHC  of  means,  but  untinged  by  worldly  consid- 
>ns.  It  was  under  Isabel's  sanction  that  this 
man  undid  in  a  few  months  the  beneficent  work 
that  seven  years  of  peace  and  a  rule  of  matchless 
wisdom  ami  integrity  had  effect  «••!  in  the  conquered 
kingdom  of  Granada,  himself  directing  that  terriMe 
engine,  the  Immi>ition,  and  forcing  on  an  insurrec- 
tion which  was  not  put  down  till,  at  least  in  name, 
not  a  Moor  was  to  be  found  in  the  kingdom.  lint 
Christian  blood  also  flowed  in  torrents;  amongst 
others  fell  the  brave  A^uilar,  the  fifth  lord  of  his 
illustrious  race  who  had  met  death  in  the  field 
li^htini;  against  the  Moors. 

\Ve  must  say  a  single  word  as  to  the  beneficent 


170  WOMEN   OF   WOETH. 

sway  of  the  two  eminent  men  whose  labors  were 
thus  overthrown.  The  Count  of  Tendilla,  the 
military  commander,  was  the  very  soul  of  honor ; 
Talavera,  the  archbishop,  was  conspicuous  for  his 
Christian  virtues.  They  went  hand  in  hand  in 
every  good  work.  Talavera's  maxim  was,  that  the 
Moors  were  yet  but  babes,  and  must  be  fed  on 
milk.  Though  already  an  old  man,  he  studied 
Arabic,  and  translated  portions  of  the  Scriptures, 
to  facilitate  his  work  with  the  infidels,  but  was 
very  wary  in  baptizing  converts.  He  spent  nearly 
his  entire  revenues  in  public  works  and  alms.  In 
times  of  scarcity,  he  several  times  sold  his  furni- 
ture, and  his  plate  was  twice  bought  back  by  the 
Count  Tendilla,  the  aged  man  declaring  he  would 
sell  it  a  hundred  times  to  relieve  the  wants  of  the 
people.  At  another  time,  he  gave  away  his  only 
mule,  saying,  "He  could  not  afford  to  keep  her 
while  the  poor  were  hungering."  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  persons  fed  daily  at  his  table.  But  we 
quit  the  subject,  having  given  only  a  tithe  of  the 
glories  and  benefits  which  were  now,  alas !  brought 
to  naught.  He  saw  the  destruction  of  the  people 
whom  he  loved  as  his  own  soul,  but  dare  not 
stretch  forth  a  hand  to  succor  them.  Soon,  how- 
ever, he  was  not,  for  God  took  him.  Isabel,  soon 
after  these  events,  published  a  decree  for  the  ex- 
pulsion of  all  the  adult  Moors  from  Castile  and 
Leon,  and  parents  were  thus  torn  from  their  chil- 
dren, unless  when  in  despair  they  embraced  the 
alternative  of  baptism.  It  was  for  such  services  as 


ISABEL   THE  CATHOLIC,  171 

that  the  Pope  bestowed  on  Isabel  the  title 
ofCatbofiol 

NVc  have  no\v  little  else  to  record  than  a  long, 
va>l  li-t  nf  doinc.-tie  losses  and  trials.  Six  months 
after  his  marriage,  an«l  before  the  fetes  were  con- 
eluded.  Prince  Juan,  who  had  never  been  strong, 
was  cut  down  by  fever,  in  a  few  days'  illness.  In 
her  anguish  the  queen  found  strength  to  say,  "The 
Lord  hath  Driven  ami  the  Lord  hath  taken  away; 
Hc—ed  In-  his  name!"  The  whole  nation  mourned 
the  loss,  ainl  the  court  wore  sackcloth  as  mourning, 
in-tead  of  the  white  serge  formerly  used.  The 
prince's  favorite  hound,  Brutus,  followed  the  corpse 
to  the  tomb,  and  there  lay  down  and  died.  Hopes 
were  entertained  of  an  heir,  but  these,  too,  were 
blasted  by  the  birth  of  a  still-born  child.  The 
Micce->ion  now  devolved  on  the  queen's  eldest 
daughter,  I-abel,  who  had  at  this  time  married 
the  Kiii'4  of  Portugal,  cousin  and  successor  of  her 
lir>t  husband ;  but  in  eighteen  months  she  died  in 
giving  birth  to  a  son,  a  frail  little  being,  who  in  his 
second  year  sank  into  the  grave,  as  if  unable  to 
Mi-tain  the  triple  diadem  which  hung  suspended 
<>\vr  his  head.  From  the  shock  of  these  succe>- ive 
blows,  the  .jiieen  never  thoroughly  recovered.  For 
time,  indeed,  after  the  death  of  her  idolized 
1,  she  hail  remained  seriously  ill.  It  was  with 
sadness  she  now  saw  that  her  fair  inheritance  mn-t 
••ml  to  her  daughter  .Iiiana,  who  already  showed 
-\in|>lomsof  that  weakness  ofintellect,  which  uided 
in  the  total  loss  of  rcax.n.  In  1500  this  unfortunate 


172  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

princess  had  given  birth  to  a  son,  afterward  the  re- 
nowned Emperor  Charles  V.,  and  in  the  following 
year  Philip  and  Juaria  arrived  in  Spain,  and  were 
sworn  heirs  to  the  kingdom.  Whatever  comfort 
the  queen  might  have  had  in  the  society  of  her 
daughter,  was  embittered  by  her  daily-increasing 
alienation  of  mind,  and  by  the  sight  of  Philip's 
open  indifference  and  disrespect  toward  his  wife, 
who  doated  on  him.  Deaf  to  all  arguments,  he 
soon  left  her,  and  returned  to  the  Netherlands , 
and  we  do  not  remember  reading  of  any  thing 
more  affecting  than  the  inconsolable  condition  of 
the  unhappy  Juana,  whose  whole  soul  was  centred 
in  her  cold,  careless  husband.  She  spent  her  weary 
days  mute  and  motionless,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  and  not  even  the  birth  of  her  second  son, 
Ferdinand,  afterward  emperor,  had  the  power  of 
rousing  her  or  assuaging  her  grief.  At  length, 
having  received  an  invitation  from  her  husband, 
she,  in  the  dreary  month  of  November,  and  in  the 
queen's  absence,  went  forth  on  foot,  without  making 
the  slightest  preparation,  evidently  with  the  vague 
intention  of  joining  her  husband.  Remonstrance 
being  vain,  her  attendants  closed  the  castle  gates, 
which  so  infuriated  the  princess,  that,  vowing  ven- 
geance, she  refused  to  return  to  her  apartments, 
and  remained  uncovered  all  night  at  the  gates. 
This  went  on  for  some  days,  all  she  would  concede 
being  to  take  refuge  during  the  night  in  a  wretched 
outbuilding  used  as  a  kitchen,  but  there  she  wa? 
again  at  the  gates  from  the  dawn  of  day  to  its 


ISABEL  THE   CATHOLIC.  173 

;  and  when  the  queen  returned,  as  fast  as  her 

own  growing  woakm--  would  permit,  it  needed 
all  her  influence  to  per-na<le  tin-  wretched  princess 
to  re-enter  the  castle.  Behold,  revolve,  and  learn, 

•  MI  turn  away  from  the  sight  of  this  daughter 
of  a  hundred  kings,  the  heir  of  two  mighty  king- 
doms, standing  at  the  closed  portal,  a  poor,  shiver- 
ing maniac,  bereft  of  all,  and  strong  in  nothing 

love,  that   undying  love,  at  once  woman's 
great  «>-t  glory  and  her  deepest  misfortune. 

I -:ibel,  now  seeing  how  vain  was  all  opposition, 
soon  suffered  her  daughter  to  depart :  but  grief  and 
fatigue  told  fatally  on  her  own  broken  health,  and 
tin-  ne\\ -  of  a  disgraceful  scene  that  had  occurred 
between  Philip  and  Juana,  in  which,  in  a  fit  of 
jealousy,  she  personally  assaulted  the  fair  object 
of  it,  and  caused  the  beautiful  locks  which  had 
t-\i -ited  his  admiration  to  be  shorn,  threw  the  un- 
happy queen  into  a  violent  fever,  which  she  never 
entirely  threw  off.  The  deepest  gloom  overspread 
tin-  kingdom.  Prayer-,  processions,  and  pilgrim- 
ages were  made  for  their  queen,  while  an  earth- 
quake aii'l  tremendous  hurricane  \verc  to  the  super- 
stitious portent-  of  coming  evil.  There  she  lay,  at 
Medina,  del  Campo,  "  her  whole  system  pervaded 
by  a  consuming  fever,"  while  to  every  Spaniard  it 

•  •1   as   if  tin-   nation   itself  were   about  to  pass 
away  with  her  who  was  it-  greatest  '_rl»i-y.    Amidst 
pain,  mental  and  phy-iral,  I-al»««l  retained  her  daunt- 

:y,  and  from  her  couch  directed  the  affairs 
of  her  kingdom,  which  had  lately  been  threatened 


174:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

with  a  French  invasion.  She  received  and  con- 
versed with  distinguished  foreigners,  amongst 
others  the  celebrated  Prospero  Colonna,  who  said, 
"he  had  come  to  see  the  woman  who,  from  her 
couch,  governed  the  world."  Isabel  died  Novem- 
ber 26,  1504,  in  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  her  age. 
Her  last  moments  were  uneheered  by  the  presence 
of  any  of  her  family.  In  her  will  were  many  wise 
provisions,  and  much  tender  mention  of  Ferdinand, 
who  seems,  by  his  many  infidelities  and  selfish 
coldness,  to  have  ill  requited  her  constant  regard. 
She  desired  to  be  buried  with  the  utmost  simpli- 
city, and  in  her  favorite  city  of  Granada.  The 
funeral  procession  was  assailed  by  such  storms, 
that  three  weeks  elapsed  ere  it  reached  its  destina- 
tion. The  swollen  mountain  torrents  tore  up  the 
roads ;  bridges  were  carried  away,  and  plains  sub- 
merged. Horses  and  mules,  and  more  than  one 
of  their  riders  perished.  During  the  whole  time, 
the  sad  cavalcade  saw  neither  sun  nor  stars.  At 
length  dust  to  dust,  and,  in  the  monastery  of  St. 
Isabel,  within  the  glorious  Alhambra,  lay  side  by 
side  the  conqueror  and  the  conquered.  Her  re- 
onains  were  afterward  removed,  and  placed  beside 
those  of  Ferdinand,  who  survived  her  twelve  years, 
in  the  mausoleum  of  the  cathedral  church  of  Gra- 
nada. 

In  the  downward  progress  of  things  in  Spain, 
some  of  the  most  ill-advised  measures  of  her  ad- 
ministration have  found  favor,  and  been  perpetu- 
ated, while  the  more  salutary  have  been  forgotten. 


ISABEL  THE   CATHOLIC.  175 

Thi>  may  ]c:i-l  to  a  misconception  of  her  real 
merits.  In  order  to  estimate  these,  we  must  HsU-:i 
to  the  \oice  of  her  oontemponuriea,  the  eye-wit- 
nesses of  the  condition  in  which  she  found  the 

.  an-1  in  whieh  she  left  it.  We  shall  then  see 
hut  one  judgment  formed  of  her,  whether  by  for- 

rs  or  natives.  The  French  and  Italian  writers 
equally  join  in  celebrating  the  triumphant  glories 
of  her  reign,  and  her  magnanimity,  wisdom,  and 
purity  of  character.  Her  own  subjects  extol  her 
as  "  the  most  brilliant  exemplar  of  every  virtue," 
an«l  mourn  over  the  day  of  her  death  as  "the  last 
of  the  prosperity  and  happiness  of  their  country." 
While  tho-e  \vho  had  nearer  access  to  her  person 
are  unbounded  in  their  admiration  of  those  amiable 
qualities,  whose  full  power  is  revealed  only  in  the 
unrestrained  intimacies  of  domestic  life.  The  judg- 
ment of  posterity  has  ratified  the  sentence  of  her 
own  age.  The  mo>t  enlightened  Spaniards  of  the 
present  day,  by  no  means  insensible  to  the  errors 
of  her  government,  but  more  capable  of  apprecia- 
ting it>  merits  than  those  of  a  less-instrueted  Hire. 
bear  honorable  testimony  to  her  deserts ;  and,  while 
they  pass  over  the  bloated  magnificence  of  8UC- 

.'.nx  monarehs,  \\ho  arrest  the  popular  eye, 
dwell  with  enthusiasm  on  Isabel's  character,  as  the 
most  truly  great  in  their  line  of  princes. 


176  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 


THE  EARNEST  CHRISTIAN. 

MRS.  ELIZABETH  HOWE. 

THE  tyrannic  measures  which  Charles  H.  was  in- 
duced to  adopt  against  the  nonconformists,  con- 
signed to  the  jail  of  Ilchester,  in  Somersetshire, 
Walter  Singer,  a  gentleman  of  good  family,  and  a 
dissenting  minister,  but  neither  a  native  nor  an 
inhabitant  of  the  place  where  he  was  imprisoned. 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Portness,  a  pious  lady  of  Ilchester, 
visited  those  persons  who  suffered  for  conscience 
sake ;  an  acquaintance  thus  began,  which  ended  in 
marriage  when  Mr.  Singer  was  released.  They  had 
three  daughters,  two  of  whom  died  young.  After 
the  death  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Singer  removed  from 
Ilchester  to  Frome,  in  the  same  county,  where  he 
,had  an  estate. 

Mr.  Singer  was  firm  in  his  own  principles,  but 
tolerant  to  those  of  others.  He  was  on  terms  of 
friendship  with  Lord  Weymouth,  and  was  fre- 
quently visited  by  Bishop  Kenn.  He  brought  up 
his  children  in  his  own  spirit  of  charity,  and  the 
whole  life  of  his  daughter  Elizabeth  revealed  the 
pure  and  gentle  influence  of  such  teaching.  She 


MRS.    ELIZABETH   ROWE.  177 

was  the  eldest  of  his  three  children,  and  the  only 
one  who  lived  to  an  advanced  age:  of  her  two 
M>ters,  she  lost  one  in  childhood;  the  other,  who 
h:nl  a  pa—ion  for  study,  and  especially  for  medi- 
cine,  in  which  she  made  considerable  proficiency, 
reached  her  twentieth  year,  and  died. 

Elizabeth  was  born  in  1674.  She  early  displayed 
a  great  fondness  for  books,  and  a  taste  for  poetry 
and  painting,  remarkable  in  one  of  her  years.  She 
was  scarcely  twelve  when  she  began  to  write 
verses ;  at  a  still  earlier  age,  she  made  attempts  hi 
drawing,  and  squeezed  out  the  juices  of  herbs  to 
serve  her  instead  of  colors.  Mr.  Singer  procured 
her  a  master ;  and  though  she  never  attained  any 
extraordinary  proficiency  in  this  delightful  art,  it 
was  to  her  a  source  of  constant  pleasure  during 
the  whole  of  her  long  life. 

Poetry  was,  however,  the  favorite  amusement 
of  Elizabeth  Singer ;  for  she  does  not  appear  to 
have  ever  considered  it  in  any  other  light.  She 
wrote  verses  with  great  facility*  but  seldom  cor- 
rected her  compositions;  to  whirh  >lu>  attached 
little  value.  Poetry  was  to  her  an  elegant  and  har- 
monious expression  of  thought  ami  fueling;  but 
she  did  not  seek,  and  she  certainly  did  not  reach, 
tint  ideal  beauty  which  is  at  once  the  delight  and 
<  1«  -pair  of  art.  Her  temper  was,  however,  essen- 
tially arti>tic,  warm,  and  overflowing  with  life. 
Her  conversation  is  represented  as  extremely  cap- 
tivating; she  made  many  friends,  and  kept  them  all. 

At  the  time  when  her  poetic  efforts  were  con- 


178  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

fined  to  the  circle  of  home,  some  verses  which  she 
wrote  drew  the  attention  of  the  Weymouth  family. 
She  was  not  then  twenty ;  but  this  incident  was 
the  origin  of  a  long  and  pleasant  friendship.  The 
Honorable  Mr.  Thynne,  son  of  Lord  Weymouth, 
undertook  to  teach  her  the  Italian  language,  in 
which  she  made  rapid  progress.  In  1696,  being 
then  twenty-two,  she  published,  at  the  request  of 
her  friends,  various  poems,  to  which  she  prefixed 
the  poetical  name  of  Philomela.  A  paraphrase  of 
the  thirty-eighth  chapter  of  Job,  written  at  the 
suggestion  of  Bishop  Kenn,  procured  her  some 
reputation. 

Literary  success  changed  nothing  in  her  calm 
and  domestic  life ;  the  friendship  of  the  polite  and 
the  great,  found  and  left  her  in  her  quiet  home. 
The  happiness  which  she  thus  enjoyed  was  deep, 
though  peaceful.  She  loved  her  father  with  all  the 
tenderness  and  reverence  due  to  his  virtues ;  an  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  shows  her  feelings :  "  I  have 
ease  and  plenty  to  the  extent  of  my  wishes,  and 
can  form  desires  of  nothing  but  what  my  father's 
indulgence  would  procure ;  and  I  ask  nothing  of 
heaven  but  the  good  old  man's  life.  The  perfect 
sanctity  of  his  life,  and  the  benevolence  of  his  tem- 
per make  him  a  refuge  to  all  in  distress,  to  the 
widow  and  fatherless ;  the  people  load  him  with 
blessings  and  prayers  when  he  goes  abroad,  which 
he  never  does  but  to  reconcile  his  neighbors, 
or  to  right  the  injured  and  oppressed ;  the  rest  of 
his  hours  are  entirely  devoted  to  his  private  devo- 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    EOWE.  179 

ami  to  books,  which  are  his  perpetual  enter- 
tainment." This  excellent  man,  to  whose  example 
his  daughter  was,  no  doubt,  deeply  indebted,  died 
in  1710,  in  sentiments  of  great  piety.  A  friend, 
who  witnev-cd  his  last  hours,  observed  that  he  set- 
tled his  a  Hairs,  and  took  leave  of  the  world,  with 
as  much  freedom  and  composure  as  if  he  had  been 
setting  out  on  a  journey.  His  great  care  was  to 
see  that  the  widows  and  orphans  with  whose 
concerns  he  had  been  intrusted,  might  not  be  in- 
jured after  hi-  death.  His  cheerfulness  and  sweet- 
«»f  temper  never  forsook  him;  but  he  some- 
times felt  his  pulse,  complained  that  it  was  still  so 
regular,  and  smiled  with  a  Christian's  triumph  at 
every  sign  and  symptom  of  approaching  death. 

1 1  is  only  surviving  daughter  was  already  a  widow 
when  this  event  took  place.  Her  charming  coun- 
tenance, agreeable  conversation,  and  gentle  temper, 
had  early  M-eured  her  a  sufficient  number  of  ad- 
mirers; amount  the  rot,  1'rior,  the  poet,  who  an- 
ie  of  her  pastorals  in  a  very  tender  strain, 
and  wi>hfl,  it  is  said,  to  marry  her  ;  but  she  would 
not  go  beyond  friendship  with  him.  The  young 
.Mid  learned  Thomas  Kowe  was  tin-  preferred  snitor. 
They  were  married  in  1710;  Eli/alieth  Singer 
ln-inir  then  thirty-six,  her  husband  but  twenty- 
three.  Time,  whieh  had  not  taken  t'rmii  her  the 
simplicity  and  purity  of  youth,  had  left  her  its 
Hess  and  comely  aspect ;  without  being  a  p«  r- 
l'.-et  beauty,  she  was  extremely  attractive.  She  had 
hair  of  a  fine  auburn  hue;  eyes  of  a  deep  grey,  in- 


180  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

clining  to  blue,  and  full  of  fire;  her  complexion 
was  exquisitely  pure ;  her  voice  soft  and  harmo- 
nious. The  passion  which  her  husband  felt  for  her 
was  both  ardent  and  sincere;  her  gentleness,  her 
compliance  with  his  wishes,  the  many  virtues  which 
he  daily  witnessed  in  her  life,  endeared  her  to  him ; 
and  marriage  only  increased  his  affection.  They 
had  been  united  about  five  years,  when  a  fatal  con- 
sumption, partly  brought  on  by  intense  study,  car- 
ried him  off,  in  the  twenty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 
He  died,  as  he  had  wished  to  die,  in  the  arms  of 
his  wife.  She  had  attended  on  him  during  his  ill- 
ness with  devoted  affection ;  and  though  she  sur- 
vived him  many  years,  she  could  not,  a  short  time 
before  her  own  death,  hear  his  name  mentioned 
without  shedding  fresh  tears  at  the  loss  it  recalled. 
It  was  only  to  please  her  husband  that  Mrs.  Rowe 
had  ever  lived,  even  for  a  time,  in  London.  After 
his  death  she  indulged  her  passion  for  solitude,  by 
residing  almost  entirely  at  Frome  ;  where,  like  her 
father,  she  devoted  her  days  to  piety,  good  deeds, 
and  books.  She  gave  little  time  to  dress,  none  to 
play  or  pleasure ;  her  leisure  was  devoted  to  lite- 
rary works  of  a  moral  character,  and  to  labors  of 
charity.  She  was  constantly  engaged  in  making 
garments  for  the  poor ;  she  did  so  not  only  for  the 
natives  of  the  lower  Palatinate,  when  the  war  drove 
them  from  their  country,  but  also  for  whosoever 
around  her  needed  such  aid.  She  visited  the  sick, 
and  instructed  poor  children;  or  caused  them  to 
be  instructed  at  her  expense.  She  never  went  out 


MRS.    ELIZABETH   EOWE.  181 

without  being  provided  with  coins  of  different  value, 
to  give  away  to  objects  of  charity.  The  first  sum 
of  money  which  she  received  from  a  publisher  was 
•  wed  on  a  family  in  distress,  and  she  once  sold 
a  pieee  of  plate  for  a  similar  purpose. 

She  carried  her  indifference  in  money  matters  to 
an  excess ;  there  was  no  life  she  hated  so  much  as 
the  sordid  and  ungenerous  love  of  gold,  and  none 
of  which  she  was  less  guilty.  She  let  her  estates  be- 
neath their  real  value,  and  would  not  even  allow 
unwilling  tenants  to  be  threatened  with  tl»e  seizure 
of  their  goods.  But  another  trait  of  her  character 
seems  to  us  to  paint  her  in  a  still  more  amiable 
light.  Mrs.  Howe  did  not  confine  her  charity  to 
the  miserable ;  she  thought  that  "  it  was  one  of 
the  greatest  benefits  that  could  be  done  to  man- 
kind, to  free  them  from  the  cares  and  anxieties  that 
attend  a  narrow  fortune ;"  and  she  accordingly  made 
large  presents  to  persons  who  were  not  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  want.  There  arc  few,  we  believe,  who 
are  unable  to  feel  the  pleasure  which  attends  the 
relief  of  great  misery ;  but  only  the  most  delicate 
minds,  and  the  most  generous  hearts,  can  expe- 
rience the  peculiar  gratification  which  Mrs.  Rowe 
found  in  relieving,  not  mere  ph\>i<-:il  distress,  but 
also  those  many  painful  cares  which  are  the  tor- 
ment of  poverty,  as  distinguished  from  want. 

The  solitude  in  which  Mrs.  Rowe  lived  did  not 

ale  her  from  many  valued  friends.     Her  name 

occurs  frequently  in  the  pleasant  letters  addressed 

by  the  Countess  of  Hartford  to  Dr.  Isaac  Watts ; 


182  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

and  when  this  eminent  man  edited  her  "  Devout 
Exercises  of  the  Heart,"  it  was  to  the  countess  that 
he  dedicated  them.  All  the  poetical  ardor  which 
characterized  Mrs.  Rowe's  turn  of  mind  appears  in 
this  work ;  once  widely  popular,  and  still  read  by 
those  who  are  not  tempted  to  smile  at  the  mys- 
ticism of  a  pure  and  pious  heart.  Tenderness  and 
enthusiasm  are  essential  to  the  religion  of  woman : 
that  of  man  is  more  properly  belief;  hers  is  love. 
We  will  make  no  extracts  from  the  Devout  Exer- 
cises, but  we  will  transcribe  from  Mrs.  Rowe's 
secret  effusions  a  page  which  needs  no  comment. 

"  I  consecrate  half  of  my  yearly  income  to  char- 
itable uses ;  and  though  by  this,  according  to  hu- 
man appearances,  I  have  reduced  myself  to  some 
necessity,  I  cast  all  my  care  on  that  gracious  God 
to  whom  I  am  devoted,  and  to  whose  truth  I  sub- 
scribe with  my  hand.  I  attest  his  faithfulness,  and 
bring  in  my  testimony  to  the  veracity  of  his  word ; 
I  set  to  my  seal  that  God  is  true ;  and  O,  by  the 
God  of  truth,  I  swear  to  perform  this,  and  beyond 
this All  that  I  have,  beyond  the  bare  con- 
venience and  necessity  of  life,  shall  surely  be  the 
Lord's ;  and  O  grant  me  sufficiency,  that  I  may 
abound  in  every  good  work!  O  let  me  be  the 
messenger  of  consolation  to  the  poor !  Here  I  am, 
Lord ;  send  me.  Let  me  have  the  honor  to  admin- 
ister to  the  necessities  of  my  brethren.  I  am,  in- 
deed, unworthy  to  wipe  the  feet  of  the  least  of  the 
servants  of  my  Lord,  much  more  unworthy  of  this 
glorious  commission ;  and  yet,  0  send  me,  for  thy 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  183 

goodness  is  free.  Send  whom  thou  wilt  on  em- 
bassies to  kings  and  rulers  of  the  earth,  but  let  me 
In-  :t  M-i-vaiit  to  the  servants  of  my  Lord.  Let  me 
admini>ter  tu  the  afflicted  members  of  my  exalted 
and  glorious  Redeemer.  Let  this  be  my  lot,  and 
I  give  the  glories  of  the  world  to  the  wind." 

This  sok'iim  vow,  which,  as  Mrs.  Rowe  herself 
expressed  it,  in  another  part  of  her  manuscripts, 
"  was  not  made  in  an  hour  of  fear  and  distress, 
but  in  the  joy  and  gratitude  of  her  soul,"  was  reli- 
giou>ly  fullilU'il,  i-veii  when  it  exposed  her  to  much 
personal  inconvenience.  To  the  end  of  her  life, 
the  poor  Stared  with  her  in  those  blessings  which 
she  held  from  the  bounty  of  God. 

In  1736,  her  health  began  to  fail.  She  prepared 
herself  lor  death  in  that  cheerful  spirit  with  which 
she  had  livi.l.  There  seemed,  however,  no  imme- 
iliate  cau»e  lor  fear.  After  spending  an  evening  in 
friendly  conversation,  she  went  up  to  her  room; 
where,  shortly  afterward,  her  servant  found  her  in 
the  agonies  of  death.  She  was,  according  to  her 
re(jue>t,  quietly  buried  by  the  side  of  her  lather,  in 
their  place  of  worship  at  Froine.  Like  him,  she 
was  lamented  by  all  those  who  had  known  her,  and 
by  none  more  than  the  poor.  Amount  lier  papers 
\\i  re  found  several  letters  addrevM-.l  to  valued 
friends.  They  express,  in  ardent  and  confident 
language,  the  belief  that,  like  the  spirit,  the  affec- 
tion.- are  immortal.  To  the  end,  the  religion  of 
Klix-ibeth  Rowe  remained  a  religion  of  love.  To 
l<.\e  God  and  his  creatures  had  been  her  delight 


184  WOMEK   OF   WORTH. 

on  earth,  and  she  hoped  to  do  both  in  heaven.  As 
she  fervently  expresses  it,  "That  benignity,  that 
divine  charity,  which  just  warms  the  soul  in  these 
cold  regions,  will  shine  with  new  lustre,  and  burn 
with  an  eternal  ardor  in  the  happy  seats  of  peace 
and  love." 


MARIA   THERESA.  1S5 


THE  STAK  OF  AUSTRIA. 

MARIA  THERESA, 

ARCHDUCHESS  of  Austria,  Queen  of  Hungary  and 
Bohemia,  and  Empress  of  Germany,  born  in  1717, 
was  the  eldest  daughter  of  Charles  VI.  of  Austria, 
Emperor  of  Germany.  In  1724,  Charles,  by  his 
will,  known  as  the  Pragmatic  Sanction,  regulated 
the  order  of  succession  in  the  house  of  Austria, 
declaring  that  in  default  of  malt-  i-sue,  his  eldest 
daughter  should  be  heiress  of  all  the  Austrian 
dominions,  and  her  children  after  her.  The  Prag- 
matic Sanction  was  guaranteed  by  the  diet  of  the 
empire,  and  by  all  the  German  princes,  and  by 
several  powers  of  Europe,  but  not  by  the  Bour- 
bons. In  17'SG,  Maria  Theresa  married  Francis  of 
Lorraine,  who,  in  1737,  became  Grand-duke  of 
Tuscany;  and  in  1739,  Francis,  with  his  consort, 
repaired  to  Florence. 

I'pon  the  death  of  Charles  VL,  in  1740,  the 
ruling  powers  of  Prussia,  Bavaria,  Saxony,  France, 
Spain,  and  Sardinia,  agreed  to  dismember  the  Au<- 
trian  monarchy,  to  portions  of  which  each  laid 


186  WOMEN    OF    WOETH. 

claim.  Maria  Theresa,  however,  went  immediately 
to  Vienna,  and  took  possession  of  Austria,  Bohemia, 
and  her  other  German  states ;  she  then  repaired  to 
Presburg,  took  the  oaths  to  the  constitution  of 
Hungary,  and  was  solemnly  proclaimed  queen  of 
that  kingdom  hi  1741.  Frederic  of  Prussia  offered 
the  young  queen  his  friendship  on  condition  of  her 
giving  up  to  him  Silesia,  which  she  resolutely  re- 
fused, and  he  then  invaded  that  province.  The 
Elector  of  Bavaria,  assisted  by  the  French,  also 
invaded  Austria,  and  pushed  his  troops  as  far  as 
Vienna.  Maria  Theresa  took  refuge  in  Presburg, 
where  she  convoked  the  Hungarian  diet ;  and  ap- 
pearing in  the  midst  of  them  with  her  infant  son 
in  her  arms,  she  made  a  heart-stirring  appeal  to 
their  loyalty.  The  Hungarian  nobles,  drawing  their 
swords,  unanimously  exclaimed,  "Moriamur  pro 
Rege  nostro,  Maria  Theresa !"  "  We  will  die  for 
our  queen,  Maria  Theresa."  They  raised  an  army 
and  drove  the  French  and  Bavarians  out  of  the 
hereditary  states.  What  would  have  been  their 
reflections  could  those  brave  loyal  Hungarians 
have  foreseen  that,  in  little  more  than  a  century, 
a  descendant  of  this  idolized  queen  would  trample 
on  their  rights,  overthrow  their  constitution,  mas- 
sacre the  nobles  and  patriots,  and  ravage  and  lay 
waste  their  beautiful  land !  Well  would  it  be  for 
men  to  keep  always  in  mind  the  warning  of  the 
royal  Psalmist,  "  Put  not  your  trust  in  princes." 

In  the  mean  time,  Charles  Albert,  Elector  of 
Bavaria,  was  chosen  Emperor  of  Germany,  by  the 


MARIA   THERESA.  187 

diet  assembled  at  Frankfort,  under  the  name  of 
Charles  VII. 

Frederic  nt'  Pru»Ma  soon  made  peace  with  Maria 
Theresa,  who  was  obliged  to  surrender  Silesia  to 
him.  In  174"),  Charles  VII.  died,  and  Francis, 
Maria  Theresa's  husband,  was  elected  emperor. 
In  1748,  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  terminated 
tin-  war  of  the  Austrian  succession,  and  Maria 
Theresa  was  left  in  possession  of  all  her  hereditary 
dominions,  except  Silesia.  In  1756,  began  the  Seven 
Years'  war  between  France,  Austria,  and  Russia, 
on  one  side,  and  Prussia  on  the  other.  It  ended  in 
1763,  leaving  Austria  and  Prussia  with  the  same 
boundaries  as  before.  In  1765,  Maria  Theresa  lost 
her  husband,  for  whom  she  wore  mourning  till  her 
death.  Her  son  Joseph  was  elected  emperor.  She 
however  retained  the  administration  of  the  govern- 

Illrlit. 

The  only  act  of  her  political  life  with  which  she 
can  be  reproached  is  her  participation  in  the  first 
partition  of  Poland ;  and  this  she  did  very  unwil- 
lingly, only  when  she  was  told  that  Russia  and 
Pru>-ia  would  not  regard  her  disapproval,  and  that 
her  refusal  would  endanger  her  own  dominions. 

The  improvements  Maria  Theresa  made  in  her 
dominions  were  many  and  important.  She  aboK 
i>ln-d  torture,  al-o  the  rural  and  personal  services 
the  peasants  of  Bohemia  owed  to  their  feudal  -i;pc 
.  She  founded  or  enlarged  in  different  parts 
of  her  exteii-ive  dominions  several  academies  for 
the  improvement  of  the  arts  and  science-;  i 


188  WOMEN   OF  WOETH. 

tuted  numerous  seminaries  for  the  education  of  all 
ranks  of  the  people ;  reformed  the  public  schools, 
and  ordered  prizes  to  be  distributed  among  the 
students  who  made  the  greatest  progress  in  learn- 
ing, or  were  distinguished  for  propriety  of  behav- 
ior, or  purity  of  morals.  She  established  prizes  for 
those  who  excelled  in  different  branches  of  manu- 
facture, in  geometry,  mining,  smelting  metals,  and 
even  spinning.  She  particularly  turned  her  atten- 
tion to  agriculture,  which,  on  a  medal  struck  by 
her  order,  was  entitled  the  "Art  which  nourishes 
all  other  arts ;"  and  founded  a  society  of  agricul- 
ture at  Milan,  with  bounties  to  the  peasants  who 
obtained  the  best  crops.  She  took  away  the  per- 
nicious rights  which  the  convents  and  churches 
enjoyed  of  affording  sanctuary  to  all  criminals 
without  distinction,  and  in  many  other  ways  evin- 
ced her  regard  for  the  welfare  of  the  people.  Al- 
though she  was  a  pious  and  sincere  Roman  Catholic, 
not  a  blind  devotee,  but  could  discriminate  between 
the  temporal  and  spiritual  jurisdiction.  She  put  a 
check  on  the  power  of  the  Inquisition,  which  was 
finally  abolished  during  the  reign  of  her  sons.  She 
possessed  the  strong  affection  of  her  Belgian  sub- 
jects ;  and  never  was  Lombardy  so  prosperous  or 
tranquil  as  under  her  reign.  The  population  in- 
creased from  900,000  to  1,130,000.  During  her 
forty  years'  reign  she  showed  an  undeviating  love 
of  justice,  truth,  and  clemency;  and  her  whole  con- 
duct was  characterized  by  a  regard  for  propriety 
and  self-respect. 


MARIA  THERESA.  189 

la  There-a  wa-,  in  In T  youth,  exceedingly 
beautiful;  and  she  retained  the  majesty,  grace,  and 
uri-  of  queenly  attractiveness  to  the  close  of 
IH  r  life.  Slu-  was  sincere  in  her  affection  for  her 
Im-baml,  and  never  marred  the  power  of  her  love- 
line-s  by  artifice  or  coquetry.  She  used  her  gifts 
ami  graces  not  for  the  gratification  of  her  own 
vanity,  to  win  lovers,  but  as  a  wise  sovereign  to 
^ain  over  refractory  subjects;  and  she  succeeded: 
tlius  showing  how  potent  is  the  moral  strength 
\uth  which  unman  is  endowed.  This  queen  has 
Hired  for  what  was  styled  "neglect  of  her 
children." 

.Maria  Theresa  was  the  mother  of  sixteen  chil- 
•  Irm,  all  born  within  twenty  years.  There  is  every 
reason  to  suppose  that  her  naturally  warm  affection, 
and  her  strong  sense,  would  have  rendered  her,  in 
a  private  station,  an  admirable,  an  exemplary  pa- 
rent ;  and  it  was  not  her  fault,  but  rather  her  mis- 
fortune, thai  >h«'  ua-  placed  in  a  situation  where 
tli.-  nx>-t  >a«-re«l  duties  and  feelings  of  her  eex 
became  in  some  measure  secondary.  While  her 
numerous  family  were  in  their  infancy,  the  einpiv>> 
wu  constantly  and  exclusively  occupied  in  the 
public  duties  and  cares  <>i'  her  high  station;  the 
:uTairs  of  government  demanded  almost  every  mo- 
ment of  her  time.  The  court  physician,  You 
I  <>ii  her  each  morning  at  her  levee, 
ami  brought  her  a  minute  report  of  the  health  of 
the  princes  ami  prince>-es.  If  one  of  them  was  in- 
di>poM'd,  the  mother,  laying  aside  all  other  cares, 


190  WOMEN   OF    WOKTH. 

immediately  hastened  to  their  apartment.  They 
all  spoke  and  wrote  Italian  with  elegance  and 
facility.  Her  children  were  brought  up  with  extreme 
simplicity.  They  were  not  allowed  to  indulge  in 
personal  pride  or  caprice ;  their  benevolent  feelings 
were  cultivated  both  by  precept  and  example. 
They  were  sedulously  instructed  in  the  "  Lives  of 
the  Saints,"  and  all  the  tedious  forms  of  unmeaning 
devotion,  in  which,  according  to  the  sincere  con- 
viction of  their  mother,  all  true  piety  consisted.  A 
high  sense  of  family  pride,  an  unbounded  devotion 
to  the  house  of  Austria,  and  to  their  mother,  the 
empress,  as  the  head  of  that  house,  was  early  im- 
pressed upon  their  minds,  and  became  a  ruling 
passion,  as  well  as  a  principle  of  conduct  with  all 
of  them. 

We  have  only  to  glance  back  upon  the  history 
of  the  last  fifty  years  to  see  the  result  of  this  mode 
of  education.  We  find  that  the  children  of  Maria 
Theresa,  transplanted  into  different  countries  of 
Europe,  carried  with  them  their  national  and  fam- 
ily prejudices ;  that  some  of  them,  in  later  years, 
supplied  the  defects  of  their  early  education,  and 
became  remarkable  for  talent  and  for  virtue ;  that 
all  of  them,  even  those  who  were  least  distin- 
guished and  estimable,  displayed  occasionally  both 
goodness  of  heart  and  elevation  of  character ;  and 
that  their  filial  devotion  to  their  mother,  and  what 
they  considered  her  interests,  was  carried  to  an 
excess,  which  in  one  or  two  instances  proved  fatal 
to  themselves.  Thus  it  is  apparent  that  her  mater- 


MARIA   THERESA.  191 

nal  duties  were  not  neglected:  had  this  been  the 
-In-  could  never  have  acquired  such  unbounded 
influence'  over  IUT  children. 

MariaThere-a  liad  long  been  accustomed  to  look 
death  in  the  face;  ami  when  the  hour  of  trial  came, 
her  resignation,  her  fortitude,  and  her  humble  trust 
in  heaven,  never  failed  her.  Her  agonies  during 
thr  last  ten  days  of  her  life  were  terrible,  but  never 
drew  from  her  a  single  expression  of  complaint  or 
impatience.  She  was  only  apprehensive  that  her 
reason  and  her  physical  strength  might  fail  her 
together.  She  was  onoe  heard  to  say,  **  God  grant 
that  these  sufferings  may  soon  terminate,  for  other- 
wise, I  know  not  if  I  can  much  longer  endure 
them." 

After  receiving  the  last  sacraments,  she  sum- 
moned all  her  family  to  her  presence,  and  solemnly 
recommended  them  to  the  care  of  the  Emperor 
Jn-e|ih,  her  eld«^t  son.  " My  son,"  said  she,  "as 
you  are  the  heir  to  all  my  worldly  possessions,  I 
cannot  dispose  of  them ;  but  my  children  are  still, 
as  they  have  ever  been,  my  own.  I  bequeath  them 
to  you;  be  to  them  a  father.  I  shall  die  contented 
if  you  promise  to  take  that  office  upon  you."  She 
then  turned  to  her  son  Maximilian  and  her  daugh- 
l.le-<ed  them  individually,  in  the  tenderest 
term-,  and  exhorted  them  to  obey  and  honor  their 
elder  brother  as  their  father  ami  sovereign.  After 
re|n-;ited  tit-  of  agony  and  suffocation,  endured,  to 
the  last,  with  the  same  invariable  serenity  and  pa- 
tience, death  at  length  released  her,  and  she  expired 


192  WOMEN    OF    WOKTH. 

on  the  29th  of  November,  1780,  in  her  sixty-fourth 
year.  She  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest  and  best 
ruler  who  ever  swayed  the  imperial  sceptre  of  Aus- 
tria; while,  as  a  woman,  she  "was  one  of  the  most 
amiable  and  exemplary  of  those  in  high  station 
who  lived  in  the  eighteenth  century. 


MADELEINE   SALOME   OBEBLIN.  193 


THE    PASTOR'S    HELPMATE. 

MADELEINE    SALOME    OBERLIN, 

DISTINGUISHED  for  her  intelligence,  piety,  and 
the  perfect  unison  of  soul  which  she  enjoyed  with 
her  husband,  the  good  and  great  John  Frederic 
Oberlin,  was  born  at  Strasburg,  in  France.  Her 
father,  M.  Witter,  a  man  of  property,  who  had 
married  a  relative  of  the  Oberlin  family,  gave  his 
daughter  an  excellent  education.  John  James 
Oberlin  was  the  pastor  of  Waldbach,  a  small  village 
in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  or  Valley  of  Stones,  a 
lonely,  sterile  place,  in  the  north-eastern  part  of 
France.  Ilere  he  devoted  himself  to  the  duties  of 
his  holy  office,  doing  good  to  all  around  him.  Un- 
der his  care  and  instruction,  the  poor,  ignorant 
peasantry  became  pious,  industrious,  and  happy. 
In  all  his  actions  he  followed  what  he  believed  to 
be  a  divine  influence,  or  the  leadings  of  Providence ; 
and  his  courtship  and  marriage  were  guided  by  his 
religious  feelings.  Oberlin's  sister  resided  with 
him  at  \VaMl»:u-h,  and  managed  his  house.  Made- 
Ifiiu-  Witter  ramc  to  visit  Sophia  Oberlin.  Miss 
Witt  IT  was  amiable,  and  her  mind  had  been  highly 

13 


194-  WOMEN   OF   WOETH. 

cultivated;  but  she  was  fond  of  fashion  and  dis- 
play. Twice  had  Frederic  Oberlin  declined  to 
marry  young  ladies  who  had  been  commended  to 
him,  because  he  had  felt  an  inward  admonition 
that  neither  of  these  was  for  him.  But  now  when 
Madeleine  came  before  him,  the  impression  was 
different.  Two  days  prior  to  her  intended  depar- 
ture, a  voice  seemed  to  whisper  distinctly,  "Take 
her  for  thy  partner !"  "  It  is  impossible,"  thought 
he;  "our  dispositions  do  not  agree."  Still  the 
secret  voice  whispered,  "  Take  her  for  thy  partner  1" 
He  slept  little  that  night,  and  in  his  morning 
prayer,  he  earnestly  entreated  God  to  give  him  a 
sign  whether  this  event  was  hi  accordance  with 
the  divine  will ;  solemnly  declaring  that  if  Made- 
leine acceded  to  the  proposition  with  great  readi- 
ness, he  should  consider  the  voice  he  had  heard  as 
a  leading  of  Providence. 

He  found  his  cousin  in  the  garden,  and  imme- 
diately began  the  conversation  by  saying,  "  You 
are  about  to  leave  us,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  re- 
ceived an  intimation  that  you  are  destined  to  be 
the  partner  of  my  life.  Before  you  go  will  you 
give  me  your  candid  opinion  whether  you  can  re- 
solve upon  this  step  ?" 

With  blushing  frankness,  Madeleine  placed  her 
hand  within  his  ;  and  then  he  knew  that  she  would 
be  his  wife. 

They  were  married  on  the  6th  of  July,  1768. 
Miss  Witter  had  been  accustomed  to  protest  that 
she  would  not  marry  a  clergyman;  but  she  was 


MADELEINE   SALOME   OBERLIN.  195 

devotedly  attached  to  her  excellent  husband,  and 
cordially  assisted  in  all  his  plans.  No  dissatisfac- 
tion at  her  humble,  lot,  no  complaints  of  the  arduous 
duties  belonging  to  their  peculiar  situation,  marred 
their  mutual  happiness.  They  were  far  removed 
from  the  vain  excitements  and  tinsel  splendor  of 
the  world ;  they  were  surrounded  by  the  rude,  illit- 
erate peasantry ;  and  every  step  in  improvement 
was  contested  by  ignorance  and  prejudice ;  but 
they  were  near  each  other,  and  both  were  near  to 
God. 

The  following  prayer,  written  soon  after  their 
union,  shows  what  spirit  pervaded  their  peaceful 
dwelling : — 

PRAYER  OF   OBEKLIN   AND  HIS  WIFE  FOR  THE  BLESS- 
ING AND  GRACE  OF  GOD. 

"  Holy  Spirit !  descend  into  our  hearts ;  assist  us 
to  pray  with  fervor  from  our  inmost  souls.  Per- 
mit thy  children,  O  gracious  Father,  to  present 
themselves  before  thee,  in  order  to  ask  of  thee  what 
is  necessary  for  them.  May  we  love  each  other 
only  in  thee,  and  in  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  as 
being  members  of  his  body.  Enable  us  at  all 
times  to  look  solely  to  thee,  to  walk  before  thee, 
and  to  be  united  together  in  thee ;  that  thus  we 
may  grow  daily  in  the  spiritual  lift-. 

"  Grant  that  we  may  bo  faithful  in  the  exercise 
of  our  duties,  that  we  may  stimulate  each  other 
therein,  warning  each  other  of  our  faults,  and  seek- 


196  WOMEN   OF   WORTH, 

ing  together  for  pardon  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ. 
When  we  pray  together  (and  may  we  pray  much 
and  frequently),  be  thou,  O  Lord  Jesus,  with  us  ; 
kindle  our  fervor,  O  Heavenly  Father,  and  grant 
us,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  whatever  thy  Holy 
Spirit  shall  teach  us  to  ask. 

"Seeing  that  in  this  life  thou  hast  placed  the 
members  of  our  household  under  our  authority, 
give  us  wisdom  and  strength  to  guide  them  in  a 
manner  conformable  to  thy  will.  May  we  always 
set  them  a  good  example,  following  that  of  Abra/- 
ham,  who  command'ed  his  children  and  his  house- 
hold after  him,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord,  in 
doing  what  is  right.  If  thou  givest  us  children, 
and  preservest  them  to  us,  O  grant  us  grace  to 
bring  them  up  to  thy  service,  to*  teach  them  early 
to  know,  to  fear,  and  to  love  thee,  and  to  pray  to- 
that  God  who  has  made  a  covenant  with  them,  that, 
conformably  to  the  engagement  which  will  be 
undertaken  for  them  at  their  baptism,  they  may 
remain  faithful  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  O 
Heavenly  Father,  may  we  inculcate  thy  word,  ac- 
cording to  thy  will,  all  our  lives,  with  gentleness, 
love  and  patience,  both  at  their  rising  up  and  lying 
down,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  under  all  circum- 
stances ;  and  do  thou  render  it  meet  for  the  children 
to  whom  thou  hast  given  life  only  as  a  means  of 
coming  to  thee. 

"  And  when  we  go  together  to  the-  Holy  Supper, 
O  ever  give  us  renewed  grace,  renewed  strength, 
and  renewed  courage,  for  continuing  to  walk  in  the 


1CADELEIXE    SALOME   OBERLIN.  197 

path  to  heaven ;  and,  as  w«  can  only  approach  thy 
table  four  times  in  the  year,  grant  that  in  faith  we 
may  much  more  frequently  be  there,  yes,  every 
day  and  every  hour;  that  w«  may  always  keep 
i  in  view,  aii«l  always  be  prepared  for  it;  and 
if  we  may  be  permitted  to  solicit  it  of  thee,  O  grant 
that  we  may  not  long  be  separated  from  each  other, 
but  that  tire  death  of  the  one  may  be  speedily,  and 
very  speedily,  followed  by  that  of  the  other. 

•  Hear,  O  gracious  Father,  in  the  name  of  Jesns 
Christ,  thy  well-beloved  son.  And,  O  merciful 
ll<-<l<<emer,  may  we  both  love  thee  with  ardent  de- 
votion, always  walking  and  Iwlding  communion 
with  thee,  not  placing  our  confidence  in  our  own 
righteousness  and  in  our  own  works,  but  only  in 
thy  blood,  and  in  thy  merits.  Be  with  us;  pre- 
serve us  faithful ;  and  grant,  Lord  Jesus,  that  we 
may  soon  see  thee.  Holy  Spirit,  dwell  always  in 
our  hearts;  teach  us  to  lift  our  thoughts  contin- 
ually to  our  gracious  Father;  impart  to  us  thy 
strength,  or  thy  consolation,  as  our  wants  may  be. 
And  to  thee,  to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son,  be 
praise,  honor,  and  glory,  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen." 

For  sixteen  years  Mrs.  Oberlin  was  a  bel' 
friend  and  useful  a>>i->tant  to  her  hu>l»and.  In 
their  tastes  and  pursuit*,  in  their  opinions  and  feel- 
ings, they  became  entirely  one.  She  managed  his 
household  <li>n-eetiy,  t-ilucateil  their  ehiMreti  judi- 
ciously, and  entered  into  all  his  benevolent  plans 
with  earnestness  and  prudence. 


198  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

She  died  suddenly,  in  January,  1784,  a  few  weeks 
after  the  birth  of  her  ninth  and  last  child.  Her 
death  was  deeply  mourned  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche, 
for  her  assistance  and  sympathy  had  always  been 
freely  offered  to  the  poor  and  the  afflicted. 

Oberlin  survived  his  wife  forty-two  years ;  but 
never  separated  himself  from  her  memory.  He 
devoted  several  hours  every  day  to  thoughts  of 
her ;  and  held,  as  he  thought,  communion  with  her 
soul.  Thus  holy  and  eternal  may  be  the  true  love 
of  husband  and  wife. 


MADKLMMB   OIIKRLIX    TIHITINIi   TIIB   Kl.  K. 
todMd  to  Wr  «lf»IUat  fcmW»<, 

lUr  d»»Ih  «u  .ln-pl.T  mawiMd  hi  UM  Bun  d.   U  Rocko,  lor  Wr 
Ww  fi».ly  otbtod  to  Ik*  poor  Md  •HklW."— l'io«  IM. 


LETITIA   BARBAULD.  199 


THE    CHILDREN'S    FAVORITE. 

ANNA  LETITIA   BARBAULD. 

To  WHOM  the  cause  of  rational  education  is  much 
imk-lit.-.l,  was  the  eldest  child,  and  only  daughter, 
of  the  Rev.  John  Aiken,  D.D.  She  waa  bom  on 
the  20th  of  June,  1743,  at  Kibworth  Harcourt,  in 
Leicestershire,  England,  where  her  father  was  at 
that  time  master  of  a  boys'  school.  From  her 
childhood  she  manifested  great  quickness  of  intel- 
lect, and  her  e«luc:itiun  was  conducted  with  inu.  h 
ran-  l>y  li.-r  parents.  In  1773,  she  was  induced  to 
publish  a  volume  of  her  poems,  and  within  the 
yi-ar  lour  editions  of  the  work  were  called  for.  In 
the  same  year  she  published,  in  conjunction  with 
her  brother,  Dr.  Aiken,  a  volume  called  "•  Miscel- 
laneous Pieces  in  Prose."  In  1774,  Miss  Aiken 
nurried  the-  Kev.  Koehemont  Darbauld,  :i  dissen- 
ting minister,  descended  from  a  family  of  French 
Protestants.  lie  had  charge,  at  that  time,  of  a 
-••.ration  at  Tal^rave,  in  Suffolk,  where  he  also 
'•d  a  boarding-school  for  boys,  the  success  of 
which  is,  in  a  great  measure,  to  be  attributed  to 
Mrs.  Barbauld's  exertions.  She  also  took  several 


200  WOMEN    OF   WOKTH. 

very  young  boys  as  her  own  entire  charge,  among 
whom  were  Lord  Denman,  afterward  Chief  Justice 
of  England,  and  Sir  William  Gell.  It  was  for  these 
boys  that  she  composed  her  "  Hymns  in  Prose  for 
Children."  In  1775,  she  published  a  volume  en- 
titled, "Devotional  Pieces,  compiled  from  the 
Psalms  of  David,"  with  "  Thoughts  on  the  Devo- 
tional Taste,  and  on  Sects  and  Establishments;" 
and  also  her  "  Early  Lessons,"  which  still  stands 
unrivaled  among  children's  books. 

In  1786,  after  a  tour  on  the  continent,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Barbauld  established  themselves  at  Hampstead, 
and  there  several  tracts  proceeded  from  the  pen  of 
our  authoress  on  the  topics  of  the  day,  in  ah1  which 
she  espoused  the  principles  of  the  Whigs.  She 
also  assisted  her  father  in  preparing  a  series  of 
tales  for  children,  entitled  "Evenings  at  Home," 
and  she  wrote  critical  essays  on  Akenside  and  Col- 
lins, prefixed  to  editions  of  their  works.  In  1802, 
Mr.  Barbauld  became  pastor  of  the  congregation 
(formerly  Dr.  Price's)  at  Newington  Green,  also 
in  the  vicinity  of  London;  and,  quitting  Hampstead, 
they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  village  of  Stoke 
Newington.  In  1803,  Mrs.  Barbauld  compiled  a 
selection  of  essays  from  the  "  Spectator,"  "  Tatler," 
and  "Guardian,"  to  which  she  prefixed  a  prelimi- 
nary essay ;  and,  in  the  following  year,  she  edited 
the  correspondence  of  Richardson  and  wrote  an 
interesting  and  elegant  life  of  the  lovelist.  Her 
husband  died  in  1808,  and  Mrs.  Bai  auld  has  re- 
corded her  feelings  on  this  melanchoiy  event  in  a 


ANNA    LETT!  I A   BARBAULD.  201 

poetical  dirge  to  his  memory,  and  also  in  her  poem 
«.f  ••  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Eleven."  Seeking  re- 
lief in  literary  occupation,  she  also  edited  a  collec- 
tion of  tin-  Uritish  novelists,  published  in  1810, 
with  an  introductory  essay,  and  biographical  .'Hid 
critical  not  ires.  After  a  gradual  decay,  this  accom-  . 
plished  and  excellent  woman  died  on  the  9th  of 
March,  1-125.  Some  of  the  lyrical  pieces  of  Mrs. 
Harhauld  are  flowing  and  harmonious,  and  her 
"Ode  to  Spring"  is  a  happy  imitation  of  Collins. 
She  wrote  also  several  poems  in  blank  verse,  cha- 
ractrri/.fd  by  a  serious  tenderness  and  elevation  of 
thought  "Il.r  earliest  pieces,"  says  her  niece, 
Lucy  Aiken,  "as  well  as  her  more  recent 
ones,  exhibit,  in  their  imagery  and  allusions,  the 
fruits  of  extensive  and  varied  reading.  In  youth, 
the  power  of  her  imagination  was  counterbalanced 
by  the  activity  of  her  intellect,  which  exercised 
itself  in  rapid  but  not  unprofitable  excursions  over 
almost  every  tield  of  knowledge.  In  age,  when 
this  activity  al»ate<l,  imagination  appeared  to  exert 
over  her  an  undiminislu-d  sway."  Charles  James 
Fox  is  said  to  have  been  a  great  admirer  of  Mrs. 
UarliauM's  songs ;  but  they  are  by  no  means  the 
best  of  her  compositions,  being  generally  artificial, 
and  unimpassioned  in  their  character. 

Her  works  show  great  powers  of  mind,  an  ardent 
love  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  that  genuine 
and  practical  piety  which  ever  distinguished  her 
character. 

In  many  a  bosom  has  Mrs.  Barbauld,  "by  deep, 


202  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

strong,  and  permanent  association,  laid  a  founda- 
tion for  practical  devotion"  in  after  life.  In  her 
highly-poetical  language,  only  inferior  to  that  of 
Holy  Writ,  when  "  the  winter  is  over  and  gone, 
and  buds  come  out  on  the  trees,  and  the  crimson 
blossoms  of  the  peach  and  the  nectarine  are  seen, 
and  the  green  leaves  sprout,"  what  heart  can  be  so 
insensible  as  not  to  join  in  the  grand  chorus  of 
nature,  and  "on  every  hill,  and  in  every  green 
field,  to  offer  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  and  the 
incense  of  praise !" 

With  each  revolving  year,  the  simple  lessons  of 
infancy  are  recalled  to  our  minds,  when  we  watch 
the  beautiful  succession  of  nature,  and  think,  "How 
doth  every  plant  know  its  season  to  put  forth? 
They  are  marshaled  in  order;  each  one  knoweth 
his  place,  and  standeth  up  in  his  own  rank." 

"The  snowdrop  and  the  primrose  make  haste  to 
lift  their  heads  above  the  ground.  When  the  spring 
cometh  they  say,  here  we  are !  The  carnation 
waiteth  for  the  full  strength  of  the  year ;  and  the 
hardy  laurustinus  cheereth  the  winter  months." 

Who  can  observe  all  this,  and  not  exclaim  with 
her,  "Every  field  is  like  an  open  book;  every 
painted  flower  hath  a  lesson  written  on  its  leaves. 

"Every  murmuring  brook  hath  a  tongue;  a 
voice  is  in  every  whispering  wind. 

"  They  all  speak  of  him  who  made  them ;  they 
all  tell  us  he  is  very  good." 

Such  sentiments,  instilled  into  the  hearts  of  chil- 
dren, have  power,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  to  pre- 


ANNA    LETITIA   BARBAULD.  203 

serve  the  moral  feelings  pure  and  holy ;  and  also 
to  keep  the  love  of  nature  and  the  memories  of 
early  life  among  the  sweetest  pleasures  of  mature 
life. 

In  a  memoir  written  by  Miss  Lucy  Aiken,  the 
niece  of  Mrs.  Barbauld,  and  kindred  in  genius  as 
well  as  in  blood,  we  find  this  beautiful  and  just 
description  of  the  subject  of  our  sketch: 

"To  claim  for  Mrs.  Barbaul J  the  praise  of  purity 
and  elevation  of  mind  may  well  appear  superfluous. 
Her  education  and  connections,  the  course  of  her 
life,  the  whole  tenor  of  her  writings,  bear  abundant 
testimony  to  this  part  of  her  character.  It  is  a 
higher,  or  at  least  a  rarer  commendation  to  add, 
that  no  one  ever  better  loved  'a  sister's  praise,' 
even  that  of  such  sisters  as  might  have  been  pecul- 
iarly regarded  in  the  light  of  rivals.  She  was  ac- 
quainted with  almost  all  the  principal  female  writers 
of  her  time ;  and  there  was  not  one  of  the  number 
whom  she  failed  frequently  to  mention  in  terms  of 
admiration,  esteem,  or  affection,  whether  in  con- 
versation, in  letters  to  her  friends,  or  in  print.  To 
humbler  aspirants  in  the  career  of  letters,  who 
often  applied  to  her  for  advice  or  assistance,  she 
was  invariably  courteous,  and  in  many  instances 
essentially  serviceable.  The  sight  of  youth  and 
beauty  was  peculiarly  gratifying  to  her  fancy  and 
her  feelings;  and  children  and  young  persons,  es- 
pecially females,  were  accordingly  large  sharers  in 
her  benevolence :  she  loved  their  society,  and  would 
often  invite  them  to  pass  weeks  or  months  in  her 


204  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

house,  when  she  spared  no  pains  to  amuse  and  in- 
struct them ;  and  she  seldom  failed,  after  they  had 
quitted  her,  to  recall  herself  from  time  to  time  to 
their  recollection,  by  affectionate  and  playful  let- 
ters, or  welcome  presents. 

"In  the  conjugal  relation  her  conduct  was  guided 
by  the  highest  principles  of  love  and  duty.  As  a 
sister,  the  uninterrupted  flow  of  her  affection,  mani- 
fested by  numbei'less  tokens  of  love — not  alone  to 
her  brother,  but  to  every  member  of  his  family — 
will  ever  be  recalled  by  them  with  emotions  of 
tenderness,  respect,  and  gratitude.  She  passed 
through  a  long  life  without  having  dropped,  it  is 
said,  a  single  friend." 

Since  the  decease  of  Mrs.  Barbauld,  her  pro- 
ductions have  been  collected,  published  in  three 
volumes,  and  circulated  widely  both  in  England 
and  the  United  States.  Some  of  the  prose  articles 
are  of  extraordinary  merit :  the  one  which  we  here 
insert  has  rarely  been  excelled  for  originality  of 
thought  and  vigor  of  expression.  Its  sentiments 
will  never  become  obsolete,  nor  its  truths  lose  their 
value, 

ON  EDUCATION. 

The  other  day  I  paid  a  visit  to  a  gentleman  with 
whom,  though  greatly  my  superior  in  fortune,  I 
have  long  been  in  habits  of  an  easy  intimacy.  He 
rose  in  the  world  by  honorable  industry,  and  mar- 
ried rather  late  in  life,  a  lady  to  whom  he  had  been 
long  attached,  and  in  whom  centered  the  wealth 


ANNA   LKTITIA    BARBAULD,  205 

of  several  expiring  families.  Their  earnest  wish 
for  chiMren  was  not  immediately  gratified.  At 
length  they  were  n$ule  happy  by  a  son,  who,  from 
the  moment  he  was  horn,  engrossed  all  their  care 
and  attention.  My  friend  received  me  in  his  lib- 
rary, wiiere  I  found  him  busied  in  turning  over 
books  of  education,  of  which  he  had  collected  all 
that  were  worthy  of  notice,  from  Xenophon  to 
Locke,  and  from  Locke  to  Catharine  Macauley. 
As  he  knows  I  have  been  engaged  in  the  business 
of  instruction,  he  did  me  the-  honor  to  consult  me 
on  the  subject  of  his  researches  hoping,  he  said, 
that,  out  of  all  the  systems  before  him,  we  should 
be  able  to  form  a  plan  equally  complete  and  com- 
prehensive ;  it  being  the  determination  of  both 
himself  and  his  lady  to  choose  the  best  that  could 
be  had,  and  to  spare  neither  pains  nor  expense  in 
making  their  child  all  that  was  great  and  good. 
I  gave  him  my  thoughts  with  tin-  utmost  freedom, 
Mini  after  I  returned  home,  threw  upon  paper  the 
observations  which  had  occurred  to  me. 

The  lir>t  thing  to  be  con-id. ---i d,  with  re-pect  to 
.tion,  i-  the  ol.jert  of  it.  This  appe.ir-  to  me 
to  have  lii-en  generally  misunderstood.  Education, 
in  its  larp-t  -••ii-,'.  i*  a  thing  of  great  scope  and 
extent.  It  include*  the  \vh..]e  process  by  which  a 
human  bcini;  r-  formed  to  be  what  he  is,  in  hal«its, 
principle-,  and  i-ultivation  of  every  kind.  But  of 
thi-,  a  \ery  >mall  part  i>  in  tlie  power  even  of  the 
parent  him-flf;  a  smaller  still  can  lie  dirceti-d  by 
purchased  tuiiion  oi'  any  kind.  You  engage  for 


206  WOMEN   OF  WORTH. 

your  child  masters  and  tutors  at  large  salaries ;  and 
you  do  well,  for  they  are  competent  to  instruct 
him ;  they  will  give  him  the  means,  at  least,  of  ac- 
quiring science  and  accomplishments;  but  in  the 
business  of  education,  properly  so  called,  they  can 
do  little  for  you.  Do  you  ask,  then,  what  will 
educate  your  son?  Your  example  will  educate 
him;  your  conversation  with  your  friends;  the 
business  he  sees  you  transact ;  the  likings  and  dis- 
likings  you  express  ;  these  will  educate  him ; — the 
society  you  live  in  will  educate  him ;  your  domes- 
tics will  educate  him;  above  all,  your  rank  and 
situation  in  life,  your  house,  your  table,  your  pleas- 
ure-grounds, your  hounds  and  your  stables  will 
educate  him.  It  is  not  in  your  power  to  withdraw 
him  from  the  continual  influence  of  these  things, 
except  you  were  to  withdraw  yourself  from  them 
also.  You  speak  of  beginning  the  education  of 
your  son.  The  moment  he  was  able  to  form  an 
idea  his  education  was  already  begun ;  the  educa- 
tion of  circumstances — insensible  education — which, 
like  insensible  perspiration,  is  of  more  constant  and 
powerful  effect,  and  of  infinitely  more  consequence 
to  the  habit,  than  that  which  is  more  direct  and 
apparent.  This  education  goes  on  at  every  instant 
of  time ;  it  goes  on  like  time ;  you  can  neither  stop 
it  nor  turn  its  course.  What  these  have  a  tendency 
to  make  your  child,  that  he  will  be.  Maxims  and 
documents  are  good  precisely  till  they  are  tried, 
and  no  longer ;  they  will  teach  him  to  talk,  and 
nothing  more.  The  circumstances  in  which  your 


ANNA   LKT1TJA   BARBAtJLD.  207 

Bon  is  place. 1  will  be  even  more  prevalent  than  your 
example ;  and  you  have  no  right  to  expect  him  to 
become  what  you  yourself  are,  but  by  the  same 
means.  You,  that  have  toiled  during  youth,  to  set 
your  son  upon  higher  ground,  and  to  enable  him 
to  begin  where  you  left  off,  do  not  expect  that  son 
to  b«  what  you  were— diligent,  modest,  active,  sim- 
ple in  his  tastes,  fertile  in  resources.  You  have 
put  him  under  quite  a  different  master.  Poverty 
educated  you;  wealth  will  educate  him.  You  can- 
not suppose  the  result  will  be  the  same.  You 
must  not  even  expect  that  he  will  be  what  you  now 
are  ;  for  though  relaxed  perhaps  from  the  severity 
of  your  frugal  habits,  you  still  derive  advantage 
from  having  formed  them  ;  and,  in  your  heart,  you 
like  plain  dinners,  and  early  hours,  and  old  friends, 
whenever  your  fortune  will  permit  you  to  enjoy 
them.  But  it  will  not  be  so  with  your  son:  his 
tastes  will  be  formed  by  yonr  pre-erit  situation, 
and  in  no  degree  by  your  former  one.  Hut  I  take 
great  care,  you  will  say,  to  counteract  these  ten- 
dencies, and  to  bring  him  up  in  hardy  and  simple 
manners ;  I  know  their  valne,  and  am  resolved 
that  he  shall  acquire  no  other.  Yes,  you  make  him 
hardy;  that  is  to  say,  you  take  a  counting-house  in 
a  good  air,  and  make  him  run,  well  clothed  and 
carefully  attended,  for,  it  may  be,  an  hour  in  a 
clear  frosty  winter's  day  upon  your  graveled  ter- 
race; or  perhaps  you  take  the  puny  shivering  in- 
fant from  his  warm  lied,  and  dip  him  in  an  icy-cold 
bath,  and  you  think  you  have  done  great  ma: 


208  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

And  so  you  have ;  you  have  done  all  you  can.  But 
you  were  suffered  to  run  abroad  half  the  day  on  a 
bleak  heath,  in  weather  fit  and  unfit,  wading  bare- 
foot through  dirty  ponds,  sometimes  losing  your 
way  benighted,  scrambling  over  hedges,  climbing 
trees,  in  perils  every  hour  both  ©f  life  and  limb. 
Your  life  was  of  very  little  consequence  to  any 
one ;  even  your  parents,  encumbered  with  a  nu- 
merous family,  had  little  time  to  indulge  the  soft- 
nesses of  affection,  or  the  solicitude  of  anxiety;  and 
to  every  one  else  it  was  of  no  consequence  at  all. 
It  is  not  possible  for  you,  it  would  not  even  be 
right  for  you,  in  your  present  situation,  to  pay  no 
more  attention  to  your  child  than  was  paid  to  you. 
In  these  mimic  experiments  of  education,  there  is 
always  something  which  distinguishes  them  from 
reality;  some  weak  part  left  unfortified,  for  the 
arrows  of  misfortune  to  find  their  way  into.  Achil- 
les was  a  young  nobleman,  dios  Achilleus,  and 
therefore,  though  he  had  Chiron  for  his  tutor,  there 
was  one  foot  left  undipped.  You  may  throw  by 
Rousseau ;  your  parents  practised  without  having 
read  it ;  you  may  read,  but  imperious  circumstances 
forbid  you  the  practice  of  it. 

You  are  sensible  of  the  advantages  of  simplicity 
of  diet ;  and  you  make  a  point  of  restricting  that 
of  your  child  to  the  plainest  food,  for  you  are  re- 
solved that  he  shall  not  be  nice.  But  this  plain 
food  is  of  the  choicest  quality,  prepared  by  your 
own  cook;  his  fruit  is  ripened  from  your  walls; 
his  cloth,  his  glasses,  all  the  accompaniments  of  the 


ANNA   LETTTIA   BABBAULD.  209 

table,  are  such  as  are  only  met  with  in  families  of 
opulence;  the  very  servants  who  attend  him  are 
neat,  well  <lre--e-l,  :ui'l  have  a  certain  air  of  fashion. 
You  may  mil  this  simplicity;  but  I  say  he  will  be 
nice — for  it  is  a  kind  of  simplicity  which  only 
wealth  can  attain  to,  and  which  will  subject  him 
to  be  disgusted  at  all  common  tables.  Besides,  he 
will  from  time  to  time  partake  of  those  delicacies 
which  your  table  abounds  with ;  you  yourself  will 
give  him  of  them  occasionally ;  you  would  be  un- 
kind if  you  did  not :  your  servants,  if  good  natured, 
will  do  the  same.  Do  you  think  you  can  keep  the 
full  stream  of  luxury  running  by  his  lips,  and  he 
not  taste  of  it  ?  \rain  imagination ! 

I  would  not  be  understood  to  inveigh  against 
wealth,  or  against  the  enjoyments  of  it;  they  are 
n-al  enjoyments  :uul  allied  to  many  elegances  in 
manners  and  in  taste;  I  only  wish  to  prevent  un- 
profitable pains  and  inconsistent  expectations. 

You  are  sensible  of  the  benefit  of  early  rising ; 
and  you  may,  if  you  please,  make  it  a  point  that 
your  daughter  shall  retire  witli  her  governess,  and 
your  son  with  his  tutor,  at  the  hour  when  you  are 
preparing  to  see  company.  But  their  .•.!«•«•]>,  in  the 
tir-t  place,  will  not  be  SO  sweet  an«l  mnli>turl>e.l 
amidst  the  rattle  of  carriages,  and  the  glare  of 
tapers  glancing  through  the  rooms,  as  that  of  the 
village  child  in  his  quiet  cottage,  protected  by 
and  darkness;  and  moreover,  yon  may  de- 
ujMtn  it,  that  as  the  coercive  power  of  educa- 
tion is  laid  aside,  they  will  in  a  few  months  slide 
14 


210  WOMEN"   OF   WOKTH. 

into  the  habitudes  of  the  rest  of  the  family,  whose 
hours  are  determined  by  their  company  and  situa- 
tion iu  life.  You  have,  however,  done  good,  as  far 
as  it  goes;  it  is  something  gained,  to  defer  per- 
nicious habits,  if  we  cannot  prevent  them. 

There  is  nothing  which  has  so  little  share  in 
education  as  direct  precept.  To  be  convinced  of 
this,  we  need  only  reflect  that  there  is  no  one  point 
we  labor  more  to  establish  with  children,  than  that 
of  their  speaking  truth ;  and  there  is  not  any  in 
which  we  succeed  worse.  And  why?  Because 
children  readily  see  we  have  an  interest  in  it. 
Their  speaking  truth  is  used  by  us  as  an  engine 
of  government — "Tell  me,  my  dear  child,  when 
you  have  broken  any  thing,  and  I  will  not  be 
angry  with  you."  **  Thank  you  for  nothing,"  says 
the  child ;  "  if  I  prevent  you  from  finding  it  out,  I 
am  sure  you  will  not  be  angry :"  and  nine  times 
out  of  ten  he  can  prevent  it.  He  knows  that,  in 
the  common  intercourses  of  life,  you  tell  a  thousand 
falsehoods.  But  these  are  necessary  lies  on  im- 
portant occasions. 

Your  child  is  the  best  judge  how  much  occasion 
he  has  to  tell  a  He :  he  may  have  as  great  occasion 
for  it  as  you  have  to  conceal  a  bad  piece  of  news 
from  a  sick  friend,  or  to  hide  your  vexation  from 
an  unwelcome  visitor.  That  authority  which  ex- 
tends its  claims  over  every  action,  and  even  every 
thought,  which  insists  upon  an  answer  to  every  in- 
terrogation, however  indiscreet  or  oppressive  to  the 
feelings,  will,  in  young  or  old,  produce  falsehood ; 


ANNA,    l.l.n  1I\    BABBAULD.  211 

or,  if  in  some  few  instances  the  deeply-imbibed  fear 
of  futun-  and  unknown  punishment  should  restrain 
from  direct  falsehood,  it  will  produce  a  habit  of 
div-iimilation,  which  is  still  worse.  The  child,  the 
•,  or  the  subject,  who,  on  proper  occasions,  may 
not  say,  "  I  do  not  choose  to  tell,"  will  certainly, 
by  the  circumstances  in  which  you  place  him,  be 
driven  to  have  recourse  to  deceit,  even  should  he 
not  be  countenanced  by  your  example. 

I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  sentiments  incul- 
cated in  education  have  no  influence ; — they  have 
much,  though  not  the  most:  but  it  is  the  senti- 
ments we  let  drop  occasionally,  the  conversation 
they  overhuir  when  playing  unnoticed  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  which  has  an  effect  upon  children ; 
and  not  what  is  addressed  directly  to  them  in  the 
tone  of  exhortation.  If  you  would  know  precisely 
the  efll'ct  these  set  discourses  have  upon  your  child, 
be  pleased  to  reflect  upon  that  which  a  discourse 
from  tin.-  pulpit,  which  you  have  reason  to  think 
merely  prot'.-v-ioiial,  has  upon  you.  Children  have 
alnuM  an  intuitive  discernment  between  the  max- 
ims you  bring  forward  for  their  \i>e,  and  those  by 
which  you  direct  your  own  conduct.  Be  as  cun- 
ning as  you  will,  they  arc-  alway>  more  cunning 
than  you.  Every  child  knows  whom  his  father 
and  mother  love  and  see  with  pleasure,  and  whom 
they  dislike;  for  whom  they  think  themselves  ob- 
liged to  set  out  their  best  plate  and  china;  whom 
they  think  it  an  honor  to  visit,  and  upon  whom 
they  confer  honor  by  admitting  them  to  their  com- 


212  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

pany.  "  Respect  nothing  so  much  as  virtue,"  says 
Eugenic  to  his  son;  "virtue  and  talents  are  the 
only  grounds  of  distinction."  The  child  presently 
has  occasion  to  inquire  why  his  father  pulls  off  his 
hat  to  some  people  and  not  to  others ;  he  is  told, 
that  outward  respect  must  be  proportioned  to  dif- 
ferent stations  in  life.  This  is  a  little  difficult  of 
comprehension:  however,  by  dint  of  explanation, 
he  gets  over  it  tolerably  Avell.  But  he  sees  his 
father's  house  in  the  bustle  and  hurry  of  prepara- 
tion ;  common  business  laid  aside,  everybody  in 
movement,  an  unusual  anxiety  to  please  and  to 
shine.  Nobody  is  at  leisure  to  receive  his  caresses 
or  attend  to  his  questions ;  his  lessons  are  inter- 
rupted, his  hours  deranged.  At  length  a  guest 

arrives :  it  is  my  Lord ,  whom  he  has  heard 

you  speak  of  twenty  times  as  one  of  the  most 
worthless  characters  upon  earth.  Your  child, 
Eugenio,  has  received  a  lesson  of  education.  Re- 
sume, if  you  will,  your  systems  of  morality  on  the 
morrow,  you  will  in  vain  attempt  to  eradicate  it. 
"You  expect  company,  mamma:  must  I  be  dressed 
to-day  ?"  "  No,  it  is  only  good  Mrs.  Such-a-one." 
Your  child  has  received  a  lesson  of  education,  one 
which  he  well  understands,  and  will  long  remem- 
ber. You  have  sent  your  child  to  a  public  school ; 
but  to  secure  his  morals  against  the  vice  which  you 
too  justly  apprehend  abounds  there,  you  have  given 
him  a  private  tutor,  a  man  of  strict  morals  and  re- 
ligion. He  may  help  him  to  prepare  his  tasks ;  but 
do  you  imagine  it  will  be  in  his  power  to  form  his 


ANNA  LEITTIA  BARBAULD.  213 

mind  ?  His  school-fellows,  the  allowance  you  give 
him,  the  manners  of  the  age  and  of  the  place,  will 
do  that ;  ami  not  the  lectures  which  he  is  obliged 
to  hear.  If  these  are  different  from  what  you 
yourself  experienced,  you  must  not  be  surprised  to 
Bee  him  gradually  recede  from  the  principles,  civil 
and  religious,  which  you  hold,  and  break  off  from 
your  connections,  and  adopt  manners  different  from 
your  own.  This  is  remarkably  exemplified  amongst 
those  of  the  Dissenters  who  have  risen  to  wealth 
and  consequence.  I  believe  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  an  instance  of  families,  who  for  three  genera- 
tions have  kept  their  carriage  and  continued  Pis* 
senters.  i 

Education,  it  is  often  observed,  is  an  expensive 
thing.  It  is  so;  but  the  paying  for  lessons  is  the 
smallest  part  of  the  cost.  If  you  would  go  to  the 
price  of  having  your  son  a  worthy  man,  you  must 
be  so  yourself;  your  friends,  your  servants,  your 
company  must  bo  all  of  that  stamp.  Suppose  this, 
to  be  the  case,  much  is  done:  but  there  will  remain 
circumstances  which  perhaps  you  cannot  alter,  that 
will  still  have  their  effect.  Do  you  wish  him  to 
love  simplicity?  Would  you  be  content  to  lay 
down  your  coach,  to  drop  your  title  ?  Where  ia 
the  parent  who  would  do  this  to  educate  his  son  ? 
You  carry  him  to  the  workshops  of  artisans,  and 
show  him  different  machines  and  fabrics,  to  awaken 
his  ingenuity.  The  necessity  of  getting  his  bread 
would  awaken  it  much  more  effectually.  The  single 
circumstance  of  having  a  fortune  to  get,  or  a  fortune 


214  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

to  spend,  will  probably  operate  more  strongly  upon 
his  mind,  not  only  than  your  precepts,  but  even 
than  your  example.  You  wish  your  child  to  be 
modest  and  unassuming;  you  are  so,  perhaps, 
yourself — and  you  pay  liberally  a  preceptor  for 
giving  him  lessons  of  humility.  You  do  not  per- 
ceive, that  the  very  circumstance  of  having  a  maa 
of  letters  and  accomplishments  retained  about  his 
person,  for  his  sole  advantage,  tends  more  forcibly 
to  inspire  him  with  an  idea  of  self-consequence  than 
all  the  lessons  he  can  give  him  to  repress  it.  "  Why 
do  not  you  look  sad,  you  raseal  ?"  says  the  under- 
taker to  his  man  in  the  play  of  '  The  Funeral ;'  "  I 
give  you  I  know  not  how  much  money  for  looking 
sad,  and  the  more  I  give  you,  the  gladder  I  think 
you  are."  So  will  it  be  with  the  wealthy  heir. 
The  lectures  that  are  given  him  on.  condescension, 
and  affability,  only  prove  ta  him  upon  how  much 
higher  ground  he  stands  than  those  about  him; 
and  the  very  pains  that  are  taken  with  his  moral 
character  will  make  him  proud,  by  showing  him 
how  much  he  is  the  object  of  attention.  You  can- 
not help  these  things.  Your  servants,  out  of  re- 
spect to  you,  will  bear  with  his  petulance ;  your 
company,  out  of  respect  to  you,  will  forbear  to 
check  his  impatience^  And  you  yourself,  if  he  is 
clever,  will  repeat  his  observations. 

In  the  exploded  doctrine  of  sympathies,  you  are 
directed,  if  you  have  cut  your  finger,  to  let  that 
alone,  and  put  your  plaster  upon  the  knife.  This 
is  very  bad  doctrine,  I  must  confess,  in  philosophy ; 


ANNA   LETTTIA    BARBAULD.  215 

but  very  good  in  morals.  Is  a  man  luxurious, 
self-indulgent?  do  not  apply  your  physic  of  the 
sold  to  him,  but  cure  his  fortune.  Is  he  haughty? 
cure  his  rank,  his  title.  Is  he  vulgar?  cure  his 
company.  Is  he  diffident  or  mean-spirited  ?  cure 
his  poverty,  give  him  consequence — but  these  pre- 
scriptions go  far  beyond  the  family  recipes  of  edu- 
cation. 

What  then  is  the  result?  In  the  first  place, 
that  wo  should  contract  our  ideas  of  education,  and 
expect  no  more  from  it  than  it  is  able  to  perform. 
It  can  give  instruction.  There  will  always  be  an 
essential  difference  between  a  human  being  culti- 
vated and  uncultivated.  Education  can  provide 
proper  instructors  in  the  various  arts  and  sciences, 
and  portion  out  to  the  best  advantage  those  pre- 
cious hours  of  youth  which  never  will  return.  It 
can  like  \\i-f  give,  in  a  great  degree,  personal 
habits;  and  even  if  these  should  afterward  give 
way  under  the  influence  of  contrary  circumstances, 
your  child  will  feel  the  good  effects  of  them,  for 
the  later  and  the  less  will  he  go  into  what  ia 
wrong.  Let  us  also  be  assured  that  the  business 
of  education,  properly  so  called,  is  not  transferable. 
You  may  engage  masters  to  instruct  your  child  in 
this  or  the  other  accomplishment,  but  you  must 
educate  him  yourself.  You  not  only  ought  to  do 
it,  but  you  must  do  it,  whether  you  intend  it  or 
no.  As  education  is  a  thing  necessary  for  all ;  for 
the  poor  and  for  the  rich,  for  the  illiterate  as  well 
as  for  the  learned ;  Providence  has  not  made  it  do- 


216  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

pendent  upon  systems  uncertain,  operose,  and  diffi- 
cult of  investigation.  It  is  not  necessary,  with 
Rousseau  or  Madame  Genlis,  to  devote  to  the  edu- 
cation of  one  child  the  talents  and  the  time  of  a 
number  of  grown  men ;  to  surround  him  with  an 
artificial  world ;  and  to  counteract,  by  maxims,  the 
natural  tendencies  of  the  situation  he  is  placed  in 
in  society.  Every  one  has  time  to  educate  his 
child :  the  poor  man  educates  him  while  working 
in  his  cottage — the  man  of  business,  while  em- 
ployed in  his  counting-house. 

Do  we  see  a  father  who  is  diligent  in  his  profes- 
sion, domestic  in  his  habits,  whose  house  is  the 
resort  of  well-informed  intelligent  people — a  mother 
whose  time  is  usefully  filled,  whose  attention  to  her 
duties  secures  esteem,  and  whose  amiable  manners 
attract  affection  ?  Do  not  be  solicitous,  respectable 
couple,  about  the  moral  education  of  your  offspring ; 
do  not  be  uneasy  because  you  cannot  surround 
them  with  the  apparatus  of  books  and  systems ;  or 
fancy  that  you  must  retire  from  the  world  to  de- 
vote yourselves  to  their  improvement.  In  your 
world  they  are  brought  up  much  better  than  they 
could  be  under  any  plan  of  factitious  education 
which  you  could  provide  for  them ;  they  will  imbibe 
affection  from  your  caresses ;  taste  from  your  con- 
versation; urbanity  from  the  commerce  of  your 
society ;  and  mutual  love  from  your  example.  Do 
not  regret  that  you  are  not  rich  enough  to  provide 
tutors  and  governors  to  watch  his  steps  with  sedu- 
lous and  servile  anxiety,  and  furnish  him  with  max- 


ANNA   LKTITIA  BABBAULD.  217 

ims  it  is  morally  impossible  he  should  act  upon 
when  grown  up.  Do  not  you  see  how  seldom  this 
over-culture  produces  its  effect,  and  how  many 
shining  :ui<l  excellent  characters  start  up  every  day 
from  the  bosom  of  obscurity  with  scarcely  any  care 
Bf 

An-  children  then  to  be  neglected?  Surely  not ; 
but  having  given  them  the  instruction  and  accom- 
plishments which  their  situation  in  life  requires,  let 
-uperfluous  solicitude,  and  trust  that  their 
characters  will  form  themselves  from  the  spon- 
taneous influence  of  good  examples,  and  circum- 
stances which  impel  them  to  useful  action. 

But  the  education  of  your  house,  important  as  it 
is,  is  only  a  part  of  a  more  comprehensive  system. 
Providence  takes  your  child  where  you  leave  him. 
Providence  continues  his  education  upon  a  larger 
.  ami  liy  a  process  which  includes  means  tar 
more  efficacious  ll.i-  your  son  entered  the  world 
:hteen,  opinionated,  haughty,  rash,  inclined  to 
dissipation  'i  Do  not  despair ;  he  may  yet  be  cured 
of  these  faults,  it'  it  pl»  a-«-  He.i\en.  There  are 
n-im-ilic^  which  you  could  not  persuade  yourself  to 
use,  if  they  wore  in  your  power,  and  which  are 
.-us  of  this  kind.  How  often  do  we 
see  the  piv-umptuous,  Lriddy  youth  changed  into 
the  wi^e  counselor,  the  considerate,  steady  frirnd  ! 
how  often  the  thoughtless  ^ay  <rirl  into  the  sober 
wife,  the  aH'ectionatc  mother!  Faded  Keaiity,  hum- 
bled >elf-(-i.n«.,.,ju.-nc«',  disappointed  ambition,  loss 
of  fortune — this  is  tin-  rough  physic  provided  by 


218  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Providence  to  meliorate  the  temper,  to  correct  the 
offensive  petulances  of  youth,  and  bring  out  all  the 
energies  of  the  finished  character.  Afflictions  sof- 
ten the  proud ;  difficulties  push  forward  the  inge- 
nious ;  successful  industry  gives  consequence  and 
credit,  and  develops  a  thousand  latent  good  qual- 
ities. There  is  no  malady  of  the  mind  so  inveter- 
ate, which  this  education  of  events  is  not  calculated 
to  cure  if  life  were  long  enough  ;  and  shall  we  not 
hope  that  He,  in  whose  hand  are  all  the  remedial 
processes  of  nature,  will  renew  the  discipline  in 
another  state,  and  finish  the  imperfect  man? 

States  are  educated  as  individuals — by  circum- 
stances ;  the  prophet  may  cry  aloud,  and  spare  not ; 
the  philosopher  may  descant  on  morals;  eloquence 
may  exhaust  itself  in  invective  against  the  vices  of 
the  age ;  these  vices  will  certainly  follow  certain 
states  of  poverty  or  riches,  ignorance  or  high  civil- 
ization. But  what  these  gentle  alternatives  fail  of 
doing  may  be  accomplished  by  an  unsuccessful  war, 
a  loss  of  trade,  er  any  of  those  great  calamities  by 
which  it  pleases  Providence  to  speak  to  a  nation 
in  such  language  as  will  be  heard.  If,  as  a  nation, 
we  would  be  cured  of  pride,  it  must  be  by  morti- 
fication; if  of  luxury,  by  a  national  bankruptcy, 
perhaps  ;  if  of  injustice,  or  the  spirit  of  domination, 
by  a  loss  of  national  consequence.  In  comparison 
of  these  strong  remedies,  a  fast,  or  a  sermon,  are 
prescriptions  of  very  little  efficacy. 

A  short  extract  from  another  excellent  Essay  we 


ANNA   LETTTIA   BABBAULD.  219 

will  here  introduce,  for  its  good  sense,  and  striking 
application  to  the  present  times : — 

OX   INCONSISTENCY   IN   OUB   EXPECTATIONS. 

u  But  is  it  not  some  reproach  upon  the  economy 
of  Providence  that  such  a  one,  who  is  a  mean,  dirty 
fellow,  should  have  amassed  wealth  enough  to  buy 
half  a  nation ':"  Not  in  the  least.  He  made  him- 
self a  mean  dirty  fellow  for  that  very  end.  He  has 
paid  his  health,  his  conscience,  his  liberty  for  it> 
and  will  you  envy  him  his  bargain  ?  Will  you 
hang  your  head  and  blush  in  his  presence,  because 
he  outshines  you  in  equipage  and  show  ?  Lift  up 
your  brow  with  a  noble  confidence,  and  say  to 
yourself,  I  have  not  these  things,  it  is  true  ;  but  it 
is  because  I  have  not  sought,  because  I  have  not 
desired  them;  it  is  because  I  possess  something 
bettor.  1  have  chosen  my  lot.  I  am  content  and 
satisfied. 

You  are  a  modest  man — you  love  quiet  and  in- 
dependence, and  have  a  delicacy  and  reserve  in 
your  temper  \\hich  renders  it  impossible  for  you 
to  elbow  your  way  in  the  world,  and  be  the  herald 
of  your  own  merits.  Be  content  then  with  a  modest 
retirement,  with  the  esteem  of  your  intimate  friends, 
with  the  praises  of  a  blameless  heart,  and  a  delicate, 
ingenuous  spirit;  but  resign  the  splendid  distinc- 
tions of  the  world  to  those  who  can  better  scram- 
ble for  them. 

The  man  whose  tender  sensibility  of  conscience 


220 

and  strict  regard  to  the  rules  of  morality  make  him 
scrupulous  and  fearful  of  offending,  is  often  heard 
to  complain  of  the  disadvantages  he  lies  under  in 
every  path  of  honor  and  profit.  "  Could  I  but  get 
over  some  nice  points,  and  conform  to  the  practice 
and  opinion  of  those  about  me,  I  might  stand  as 
fair  a  chance  as  others  for  dignities  and  prefer- 
ment." And  why  can  you  not?  What  hinders 
you  from  discarding  this  troublesome  scrupulosity 
of  yours,  which  stands  so  grievously  in  your  way  ? 
tf  it  be  a  small  thing  to  enjoy  a  healthful  mind, 
sound  at  the  very  core,  that  does  not  shrink  from 
the  keenest  inspection;  inward  freedom  from  re- 
morse and  perturbation;  unsullied  whiteness  and 
simplicity  of  manners ;  a  genuine  integrity — 

"  Pure  in  the  last  recesses  of  the  mind ;" 

if  you  think  these  advantages  an  inadequate  recom- 
pense for  what  you  resign,  dismiss  your  scruples 
this  instant,  and  be  a  slave-merchant,  a  parasite,  or 
— what  you  please — 

"  If  these  be  motives  weak,  break  off  betimes ;" 

and  as  you  have  not  spirit  to  assert  the  dignity  of 
virtue,  be  wise  enough  not  to  forego  the  emolu- 
ments of  vice. 

I  much  admire  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers, in  that  they  never  attempted,  as  our  moral- 
ists often  do,  to  lower  the  tone  of  philosophy,  and 
make  it  consistent  with  all  the  indulgences  of  in- 
dolence and  sensuality.  They  never  thought  of 


AXXA   LETITIA   BARBAULD. 

having  the  bulk  of  mankind  for  their  disciples ;  but 
ki-pt  themselves  as  distinct  as  possible  from  a 
worldly  life-.  They  plainly  told  men  what  sacrifices 
required,  and  what  advantages  they  were 
which  might  be  expected: — 

"  Si  rirtna  hoc  una  potest  dare,  fortis  omisses 
Hoc  age  deliciia " 

If  you  would  be  a  philosopher,  these  are  the  terms. 
You  must  do  thus  and  thus  ;  there  is  no  other  way. 
If  not,  go  and  be  one  of  the  vulgar. 

There  is  no  one  quality  gives  so  much  dignity  to 
a  character  as  consistency  of  conduct.  Even  if  a 
man's  pursuits  be  wrong  and  unjustifiable,  yet  if 
they  are  prosecuted  with  steadiness  and  vigor,  we 
cannot  withhold  our  admiration.  The  most  char- 
acteristic mark  of  a  jjreat  mind  is  to  choose  some 
one  important  object,  and  pursue  it  through  life. 
It  was  this  made  Ciesar  a  great  man.  His  object 
was  ambition ;  he  pursued  it  steadily,  and  was  al- 
ways ready  to  sacrifice  to  it  every  interfering  pas- 
sion or  inclination. 

***** 

There  is  a  different  air  and  complexion  in  char- 
acters as  well  as  in  faces,  though  perhaps  equally 
beautiful ;  and  the  excellences  of  one  cannot  be 
transferred  to  the  other.  Thus,  if  one  man  pos- 
RrNxes  ;i  stoical  apathy  of  >oul,  acts  in-l'-prndrnt  ««f 
the  opinion  of  the  world,  and  fulfils  every  duty 
with  mathematical  exactness,  you  must  not  expect 
that  man  to  be  greatly  influenced  by  the  weakness 


222  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

of  pity,  or  the  partialities  of  friendship ;  you  must 
not  be  offended  that  he  does  not  fly  to  meet  you 
after  a  short  absence ;  or  require  from  him  the  con- 
vivial spirit  and  honest  effusions  of  a  warm,  open, 
susceptible  heart.  If  another  is  remarkable  for  a 
lively  active  zeal,  inflexible  integrity,  a  strong  in- 
dignation against  vice,  and  freedom  in  reproving 
it,  he  will  probably  have  some  little  bluntness  in 
his  address  not  altogether  suitable  to  polished  life ; 
he  will  want  the  winning  arts  of  conversation ;  he 
will  disgust  by  a  kind  of  haughtiness  and  negli- 
gence in  his  manner,  and  often  hurt  the  delicacy 
of  his  acquaintance  with  harsh  and  disagreeable 
truths. 

We  do  not  consider  the  poetry  of  Mrs.  Barbauld 
equal  to  her  prose  writings ;  but  there  is  a  benig- 
nity, mingled  with  vivacity,  in  some  of  her  poetical 
productions  which  make  them  always  pleasant,  as 
the  face  of  a  cheerful  friend. 

WASHING-DAT. 

THE  Muses  are  turn'd  gossips ;  they  have  lost 
The  buskin'd  step,  and  clear  high-sounding  phrase, 
Language  of  gods.    Come  then,  domestic  Muse, 
In  slipshod  measure  loosely  prattling  on 
Of  farm  or  orchard,  pleasant  curds  and  cream, 
Or  drowning  flies,  or  shoe  lost  in  the  mire 
By  little  whimpering  boy,  with  rueful  face; 
Come,  Muse,  and  sing  the  dreaded  Washing-Day. 
Ye  who  beneath  the  yoke  of  wedlock  bend, 
With  bowed  soul,  full  well  ye  ken  the  day 
"Which  week,  smooth  sliding  after  week,  brings  on 


ANNA   LETTTIA   BARBAULD.  223 

Too  soon  ;— for  to  that  day  nor  peace  belongs 

Nor  comfort ; — ere  the  first  gray  streak  of  dawn, 

The  red-armed  washers  come  and  chase  repose. 

Nor  pleasant  smile,  nor  quaint  device  of  mirth, 

E'er  visited  that  day ;  the  very  cat, 

From  the  wet  kitchen  scared  and  reeking  hearth, 

Visits  the  parlor — an  unwonted  guest. 

The  silent  breakfast-meal  is  soon  dispatch' d  ; 

Uninterrupted,  nave  by  anxious  looks 

Cast  at  the  lowering  sky,  if  sky  should  lower. 

From  that  last  evil,  O  preserve  us,  heavens  I 

For  should  the  skies  pour  down,  adieu  to  all 

Remains  of  quiet;  then  expect  to  hear 

Of  sad  disasters — dirt  and  gravel  stains 

Hard  to  efface,  and  loaded  lines  at  once 

Snapped  short — and  linen-horse  by  dog  thrown  down, 

And  all  the  petty  miseries  of  life. 

Saints  hare  been  calm  while  stretched  upon  the  rack, 

And  Guatimozin  smiled  on  burning  coals ; 

But  never  yet  did  housewife  notable 

Greet  with  a  smile  a  rainy  washing-day. 

— But  grant  the  welkin  fair,  require  not  thou 

Who  call'st  thyself  perchance  the-  master  there, 

Or  study  swept  or  nicely  dusted  coat, 

Or  usual  'tendance; — ask  not,  indiscreet, 

Thy  stockings  mended,  though  the  yawning  rent* 

Gape  wide  as  Erebus ;  nor  hope  to  find 

Some  snug  recess  impervious;  shouldst  thou  try 

The  'eustomed  garden  walks,  thine  eye  shall  rue 

The  budding  fragrance  of  thy  tender  shrubs, 

Myrtle  or  rose,  all  crushed  beneath  the  weight 

Of  coarse  check'd  apron — with  impatient  hand 

Twitched  off  when  showers  impend ;  or  crossing  line* 

Shall  mar  thy  musings,  as  the  wet  cold  sheet 

Flaps  in  thy  face  abrupt    Woe  to  the  friend 

Whose  evil  stars  have  urged  him  forth  to  claim 

On  such  a  day  the  hospitable  rites ! 

Looks,  blank  at  best,  and  stinted  courtesy 

Shall  he  receive.    Vainly  he  feeds  his  hopes 

With  dinner  of  roast  chicken,  savory  pie, 


224:  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

Or  tart,  or  pudding ; — pudding  he  nor  tart 

That  day  shall  eat ;  nor,  though  the  husband  try, 

Mending  what  can't  be  helped,  to  kindle  mirth 

From  cheer  deficient,  shall  his  consort's  brow 

Clear  up  propitious  ; — the  unlucky  guest 

In  silence  dines,  and  early  slinks  away. 

I  well  remember,  when  a  child,  the  awe 

This  day  struck  into  me ;  for  then  the  maids, 

I  scarce  knew  why ;  look'd  cross,  and  drove  me  from  them. 

Nor  soft  caress  could  I  obtain,  nor  hope 

Usual  indulgences ;  jelly  or  creams, 

Relic  of  costly  suppers,  and  set  by 

For  me  their  petted  one  ;  or  butter'd  toast, 

When  butter  was  forbid ;  or  thrilling  tale 

Of  ghost,  or  witch,  or  murder — so  I  went 

And  shelter' d  me  beside  the  parlor  fire ; 

There  my  dear  grandmother,  eldest  of  forms, 

Tended  the  little  ones,  and  watched  from  harm, 

Anxiously  fond,  though  oft  her  spectacles 

With  elfin  cunning  hid,  and  oft  the  pins 

Drawn  from  her  ravell'd  stocking,  might  have  sour'd 

One  less  indulgent. — 

At  intervals  my  mother's  voice  was  heard, 

Urging  dispatch ;  briskly  the  work  went  on, 

All  hands  employ'd  to  wash,  to  rinse,  to  ring, 

To  fold,  and  starch,  and  clap,  and  iron,  and  plait. 

Then  would  I  sit  me  down,  and  ponder  much 

Why  washings  were.    Sometimes  through  hollow  bowl 

Of  pipe  amused  we  blew,  and  sent  aloft 

The  floatting  bubbles ;  little  dreaming  then 

To  see,  Mongolfier,  thy  silken  ball 

Ride  buoyant  through  the  clouds — so  near  approach 

The  sports  of  children  and  the  toils  of  men. 

Earth,  air,  and  sky,  and  ocean,  hath  its  bubbles, 

And  verse  is  one  of  them — this  most  of  all. 


ANNA   LETITIA   BARBAULD.  225 


PAINTED  FLOWERS. 

Flowers  to  the  fair ;  to  you  these  flowers  I  bring, 

And  strive  to  greet  you  with  an  earlier  spring, 

Flowers,  sweet  and  gay,  and  delicate  like  you, 

Emblems  of  innocence  and  beauty  too. 

With  flowers  the  Graces  bind  their  yellow  hair, 

And  flowery  wreaths  consenting  lovers  wear. 

Flowers,  the  sole  luxury  which  Nature  knew, 

In  Eden's  pure  and  guiltless  garden  grew. 

To  loftier  forms  are  rougher  tasks  assign'd ; 

The  sheltering  oak  resists  the  stormy  wind, 

The  tougher  yew  repels  invading  foes, 

And  the  tall  pine  for  future  navies  grows ; 

But  this  soft  family,  to  cares  unknown, 

Were  born  for  pleasure  and  delight  alone: 

Gay  without  toil,  and  lovely  without  art, 

They  spring  to  cheer  the  sense,  and  glad  the  heart, 

Nor  blush,  my  fair,  to  own  you  copy  these, 

Your  best,  your  sweetest  empire  is — to  pleaae. 

16 


226  WOMEN   OF  WORTH. 


THE  DEVOTED  PATRIOT. 

REBECCA  MOTTE, 

DAUGHTER  of  Robert  Brewton,  an  English  gentle- 
man, who  had  emigrated  to  South  Carolina,  was 
born  in  1738,  in  Charleston.  "When  about  twenty, 
she  married  Mr.  Jacob  Motte,  who  died  soon  after 
the  commencement  of  the  revolutionary  war.  Cap- 
tain McPherson,  of  the  British  army,  who  was  in 
command  of  the  garrison  at  Fort  Motte,  had  taken 
possession  of  the  large  new  house  of  Mrs.  Motte, 
and  fortified  it,  so  that  it  was  almost  impregnable. 
Mrs.  Motte  herself  had  been  obliged  to  remove  to 
an  old  farm-house  in  the  vicinity.  la  order  to  dis- 
lodge the  garrison  before  succors  could  arrive, 
Generals  Marion  and  Lee,  who  were  commanding 
the  American  forces  there,  could  devise  no  means 
but  burning  the  mansion.  This  they  were  very 
reluctant  to  do,  but  Mrs.  Motte  willingly  assented 
W>  the  proposal,  and  presented,  herself,  a  bow  and 
.ts  apparatus,  which  had  been  imported  from  India, 
and  was  prepared  to  carry  combustible  matter. 
We  will  conclude  this  scene  from  the  eloquent  de- 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  227 

scription  of  Mrs.  Ellet,  to  whose  admirable  work* 
we  are  imleUed  for  the  interesting  materials  for 
this  sketch. 

"Every  tiling  was  now  prepared  for  the  conclu- 
ding scene.  The  lines  were  manned,  and  an  addi- 
tional force  stationed  at  the  battery,  to  meet  a 
desperate  assault,  if  such  should  be  made.  The 
American  entrenchments  being  within  arrow-shot, 
Mrl'herson  was  once  more  summoned,  and  again 
more  confidently — for  help  was  at  hand — asserted 
his  determination  to  resist  to  the  last. 

"  The  scorching  rays  of  the  noon-day  sun  had 
prepared  the  shingle  roof  for  the  conflagration. 
The  return  of  the  flag  was  immediately  followed 
by  the  shooting  of  the  arrows,  to  which  balls  of 
blazing  rosin  and  brimstone  were  attached.  Simms 
tells  us  the  bow  was  put  into  the  hands  of  Nathan 
Savage,  a  private  in  Marion's  brigade.  The  first 
struck,  and  set  fire ;  also  the  second  and  third,  in 
different  quarters  of  the  roof.  McPherson  imme- 
diately ordered  men  to  repair  to  the  loft  of  the 
house,  an<l  check  the  flames  by  knocking  off  the 
shingles ;  but  they  were  soon  driven  down  by  the 
fire  of  the  six-pounder ;  and  no  other  effort  to  stop 
the  burning  being  practicable,  the  commandant 
hung  out  the  white  flag,  and  surrendered  the  gar- 
rison at  discretion. 

"  If  ever  a  situation  in  real  life  afforded  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  poetry,  by  filling  the  mind  with  a  sense  of 


'Women  of  th«  American  Revolution." 


228  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

moral  grandeur,  it  was  that  of  Mrs.  Mottc  contem- 
plating the  spectacle  of  her  home  in  flames,  and  re- 
joicing in  the  triumph  secured  to  her  countrymen 
— the  benefit  to  her  native  land,  by  her  surrender 
of  her  own  interest  to  the  public  service.  I  have 
stood  upon  the  spot,  and  felt  that  it  was  indeed 
classic  ground,  and  consecrated  by  memories  which 
should  thrill  the  heart  of  every  American.  But  the 
beauty  of  such  memories  would  be  marred  by  the 
least  attempt  at  ornament ;  and  the  simple  narra- 
tive of  that  memorable  occurrence  has  more  effect 
to  stir  the  feelings  than  could  a  tale  artistically 
framed  and  glowing  with  the  richest  hues  of  im- 
agination. 

"After  the  captors  had  taken  possession,  McPher- 
son  and  his  officers  accompanied  them  to  Mrs. 
Motte's  dwelling,  where  they  sat  down  together  to 
a  sumptuous  dinner.  Again,  in  the  softened  pic- 
ture, our  heroine  is  the  principal  figure.  She 
showed  herself  prepared,  not  only  to  give  up  her 
splendid  mansion  to  ensure  victory  to  the  American 
arms,  but  to  do  her  part  toward  soothing  the 
agitation  of  the  conflict  just  ended.  Her  dignified, 
courteous,  and  affable  deportment  adorned  the  hos- 
pitality of  her  table ;  she  did  the  honors  with  that 
unaffected  politeness  which  wins  esteem  as  weU  as 
admiration ;  and  by  her  conversation,  marked  with 
ease,  vivacity,  and  good  sense,  and  the  engaging 
kindness  of  her  manners,  endeavored  to  obliterate 
the  recollection  of  the  loss  she  had.  been  called 
upon  to  sustain,  and  at  the  same  tune  to  remove 


REBECCA   MOTTE.  229 

from  the  minds  of  the  prisoners  the  sense  of  their 
nii>tbrtunes." 

Another  portion  of  her  history  is  important,  as 
illustrating  her  high  sense  of  honor,  her  energy, 
and  patient,  self-denying  perseverance.  Her  hus- 
band, in  consequence  of  the  difficulties  and  dis- 
tresses growing  out  of  our  war  for  independence, 
became  embarrassed  in  his  business ;  and  after  his 
death,  and  termination  of  the  war,  it  was  found 
imjMKMMf  to  satisfy  these  claims. 

"The  widow,  however,  considered  the  honor  of 
her  deceased  husband  involved  in  the  responsibili- 
ties he  had  assumed.  She  determined  to  devote- 
the  remainder  of  her  life  to  the  honorable  task  of 
paying  the  debts.  Her  friends  and  connections, 
whose  acquaintance  with  her  affairs  gave  weight 
to  their  judgment,  warned  her  of  the  apparent 
hopelessness  of  such  an  effort.  But,  steadfast  in 
the  principles  that  governed  all  her  conduct,  she 
persevered.  Living  in  an  humble  dwelling,  and 
relinquishing  many  of  her  habitual  comforts,  she 
devoted  herself  with  such  zeal,  untiring  industry, 
and  indomitable  resolution,  to  the  attainment  of 
her  object,  that  her  success  triumphed  over  every 
difficulty,  and  exceeded  the  expectations  of  all  who 
had  discouraged  her.  She  not  only  paid  her  hus- 
band's debts  to  the  full,  but  secured  for  her  chil- 
dren and  descendants  a  handsome  and  unencum- 
bered estate.  Such  an  example  of  perseverance 
under  adverse  circumstances,  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  high  and  noble  purpose,  exhibits  in  yet 


230  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

brighter  colors  the  heroism  that  shone  in  her  coun- 
try's days  of  peril !" 

Mrs.  Motte  died  in  1815,  at  her  plantation  on 
the  Santee. 


SUZANNE  CUBCHOD,    MADAME   NECKER.      231 


THE    ESTIMABLE    GOVERNESS. 

SUZANNE  CURCHOD,  MADAME  NECKER, 

WAS  descended,  on  the  maternal  side,  from  an  an- 
cient family  in  Provence,  who  had  taken  refuge  in 
Switzerland  on  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nan- 
tes. She  was  born  at  Grassy,  her  father,  M.  Cur- 
chod,  being  the  evangelical  minister  in  that  little 
village,  lie  was  a  very  learned  man,  and  trained 
his  daughter  with  great  care,  even  giving  her  the 
severe  and  classical  education  usually  bestowed 
only  on  men.  The  young  Suzanne  Curchod  was 
renowned  throughout  the  whole  province  for  her 
wit,  bi-aiity,  and  intellectual  attainments. 

Gibbon,  the  future  historian,  but  then  an  un- 
known youth  studying  in  Lausanne,  met  Made- 
moiselle Curchod,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  succeeded 
in  rendering  his  attachment  acceptable  to  both  the 
object  of  his  affections  and  her  parents.  When  he 
returned,  however,  to  England,  his  lather  indig- 
nantly refused  to  hear  of  the  proposed  marriage 
b<  t\\c»-i!  him  and  the  Swiss  mini>trr'>  portionless 
daughter.  Gibbon  yielded  to  parental  authority, 
and  philosophically  forgot  his  learned  mistress. 


232  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

After  her  father's  death,  which  left  her  wholly 
unprovided  for,  Suzanne  Curchod  retired  with  her 
mother  to  Geneva.  She  there  earned  a  precarious 
subsistence  by  teaching  persons  of  her  own  sex. 
When  her  mother  died,  a  lady  named  Madame  de 
Vermenoux  induced  Mademoiselle  Curchod  to  come 
to  Paris,  in  order  to  teach  Latin  to  her  son.  It 
was  in  this  lady's  house  that  she  met  Necker.  He 
was  then  in  the  employment  of  Thellusson,  the 
banker,  and  occasionally  visited  Madame  de  Ver- 
menoux. Struck  with  the  noble  character  and 
grave  beauty  of  the  young  governess,  Necker  cul- 
tivated her  acquaintance,  and  ultimately  made  her 
his  wife.  Mutual  poverty  had  delayed  their  mar- 
riage for  several  years ;  but  it  Avas  not  long  ere 
Necker  rose  from  his  obscurity.  Madame  Necker 
had  an  ardent  love  of  honorable  distinction,  which 
she  imparted  to  her  husband,  and  which  greatly 
served  to  quicken  his  efforts:  his  high  talents  in 
financial  matters  were  at  length  recognized :  he 
became  a  wealthy  and  respected  man.  Shortly 
after  her  marriage,  Madame  Necker  expressed  the 
desire  of  devoting  herself  to  literature.  Her  hus- 
band, however,  delicately  hinted  to  her  that  he 
should  regret  seeing  her  adopt  such  a  course.  This 
sufficed  to  induce  her  to  relinquish  her  intention : 
she  loved  him  so  entirely,  that,  without  effort  or 
repining,  she  could  make  his  least  wish  her  law. 

As  Necker  rose  in  the  world,  Madame  Necker's 
influence  increased ;  but  it  never  was  an  individual 
power,  like  that  of  Madame  du  Deffand,  or  of  the 


SUZANNE   CURCI10D,    MADAMK   NKCKKK.       233 

Marechale  de  Luxembourg.  Over  her  husband  she 
al  \vays  possessed  great  influence.  Her  virtues  and 
noble  diameter  had  inspired  him  with  a  feeling 
akin  to  veneration.  He  was  not  wholly  guided  by 
her  counsels,  but  he  respected  her  opinions  as  those 
of  a  high-minded  being,  whom  all  the  surrounding 
folly  and  corruption  could  not  draw  down  from  her 
sphere  of  holy  purity.  If  Madame  Necker  was 
loved  and  esteemed  by  her  husband,  she  may  be 
said  to  have  almost  idolized  him ;  and  her  passion- 
att-  attachment  probably  increased  the  feelings  of 
vanity  and  self-importance  of  which  Necker  has 
often  been  accused.  This  exclusive  ilevotedness 
caused  some  wonder  amongst  the  friends  of  the 
minister  and  his  wife;  for  seldom  had  these  skep- 
tieal  philosophers  witnessed  a  conjugal  nnion  so 
strict  and  uncompromising,  and  yet  so  touching  in 
its  very  severity. 

When  Necker  became,  in  1770,  Director-Gen- 
eral of  the  Finances,  his  wife  resolved  that  the 
influence  her  husband's  official  position  gave  her 
should  not  be  employed  in  procuring  unmerited 
favors  for  flatterers  or  para-ites.  She  placed  before 
herself  the  far  more  noble  object  of  alleviating  mis- 
fortune, and  pointing  out  to  her  reforming  husband 
some  of  the  innumerable  abuses  which  then  exi-tcd 
in  every  department  of  the  state.  One  of  her  first 
attempts  was  to  overthrow  the  lottery.  She  pressed 
the  point  on  Necker' s  attention;  but  though  he 
shared  her  convictions,  he  had  not  the  power  of 
destroying  this  great  evil :  he  did,  however,  all  he 


234  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

could  to  moderate  its  excesses.  The  prisons  and 
hospitals  of  Paris  greatly  occupied  the  attention 
of  Madame  Necker  during  the  five  years  of  her 
husband's  power.  Her  devotedness  to  the  cause 
of  humanity  was  admirable,  and  shone  with  double 
lustre  amidst  the  heartless  selfishness  of  the  sur- 
rounding world.  She  once  happened  to  learn  that 
a  certain  Count  of  Lautrec  had  been  imprisoned  in 
a  dungeon  of  the  fortress  of  Ham  for  twenty-eight 
years !  and  that  the  unhappy  captive  now  scarcely 
seemed  to  belong  to  human  kind.  A  feeling  of 
deep  compassion  seized  her  heart.  To  liberate  a 
state  prisoner  was  more  than  her  influence  could 
command,  but  she  resolved  to  lighten,  if  possible, 
his  load  of  misery.  She  set  out  for  Ham,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  a  sight  of  M.  de  Lautrec.  She 
found  a  miserable-looking  man,  lying  listlessly  on 
the  straw  of  his  dungeon,  scarcely  clothed  with  a 
few  tattered  rags,  and  surrounded  by  rats  and  rep- 
tiles. Madame  Necker  soothed  his  fixed  and  sullen 
despair  with  promises  of  speedy  relief;  nor  did  she 
depart  until  she  had  kept  her  word,  and  seen  M. 
de  Lautrec  removed  to  an  abode  where,  if  still  a 
prisoner,  he  might  at  least  spend  in  peace  the  few 
days  left  him  by  the  tyranny  of  his  oppressors. 

Acts  of  individual  benevolence  were  not,  how- 
ever, the  only  object  of  the  minister's  wife.  Not- 
withstanding the  munificence  of  her  private  char- 
ities, she  aimed  none  the  less  to  eifect  general 
good.  Considerable  ameliorations  were  introduced 
by  her  in  the  condition  of  the  hospitals  of  Paris. 


SUZANNE   CFRCI1OD,    MADAME   KECKKi:.       235 

She  entered,  with  unwearied  patience,  into  the 
most  minute  details  of  their  actual  administration, 
and  with  admirable  ingenuity,  rectified  errors  or 
suggested  improvements.  Her  aim  was  to  effect  a 
greater  amount  of  good  with  the  same  capital, 
whieh  she  iiow  saw  grossly  squandered  and  mis- 
applied. The  reforms  which  she  thus  introduced 
were  both  important  and  severe.  She  sacrificed 
almost  the  whole  of  her  time  to  this  praiseworthy 
task,  and  ultimately  devoted  a  considerable  sum  to 
found  the  hospital  which  still  bears  her  name. 
Beyond  this,  Madame  Xecker  sought  to  exercise 
no  power  over  her  husband,  or  through  his  means. 
She  loved  him  far  too  truly  and  too  well  to  aim  at 
an  influence  which  might  have  degraded  Ixim  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world.  Necker  was,  however, 
proud  of  his  noble-hearted  wife,  and  never  hesi- 
tated to  confess  how  much  he  was  indebted  to  her 
advice.  When  he  retired  from  office,  in  1781,  and 
published  his  famous  "  Compte  Kendu,"  he  seized 
this  opportunity  of  paying  a  high  and  heartfelt 
homage  to  the  virtues  of  his  wife.  "  Whilst  re- 
tracing," he  observes  at  the  conclusion  of  liis  work, 
"a  portion  of  the  charitable  tasks  prescribed  by 
your  majesty,  let  me  be  permitted,  sire,  to  allude, 
without  naming  her,  to  a  person  gifted  with  sin- 
gular virtues,  and  who  has  materially  assisted  me 
in  accomplishing  the  designs  of  your  majesty.  Al- 
though her  name  was  never  uttered  to  you,  in  all 
the  vanities  of  high  office,  it  is  right,  sire,  that  you 
should  be  aware  that  it  is  known  and  frequently 


236  WOMEN   OF  WORTH. 

invoked  in  the  most  obscure  asylums  of  suffering 
humanity.  It  is  no  doubt  most  fortunate  for  a 
minister  of  finances  to  find,  in  the  companion  of  his 
life,  the  assistance  he  needs  for  so  many  details  of 
beneficence  and  charity,  which  might  otherwise 
prove  too  much  for  the  strength  and  attention. 
Carried  away  by  the  tumults  of  general  affairs — 
often  obliged  to  sacrifice  the  feelings  of  the  private 
man  to  the  duties  of  the  citizen — he  may  well  es- 
teem himself  happy,  when  the  complaints  of  pov- 
erty and  misery  can  be  confided  to  an  enlightened 
person  who  shares  the  sentiment  of  his  duties." 

If  Madame  Necker  has  not  left  so  remarkable  a 
name  as  many  women  of  her  time  ;  if  her  contem- 
poraries, justly,  perhaps,  found  her  too  cold  and 
formal ;  yet  she  shines  at  least  in  that  dark  age,  a 
noble  example  of  Avoman's  virtues—  devoted  love, 
truth,  and  purity.  She  died  in  1794,  calm  and  re- 
signed throughout  the  most  acute  sufferings ;  her 
piety  sustained  her.  The  literary  works  she  left 
are  chiefly  connected  with  her  charities,  or  were 
called  forth  by  the  events  around  her.  Among 
these  works  are  the  following: — "Hasty  Inter- 
ments," "  Memorial  on  the  Establishment  of  Hos- 
pitals," "  Reflections  on  divorce,"  and  her  "  Miscel- 
lanies." Her  only  child  was  the  celebrated  Madame 
de  Stael. 


CAROLINE   LUCBETIA   HER8CHEL.  237 


THE    PATIENT    ASTRONOMER. 

CAROLINE   LUCRETIA   HERSCHKL, 

TER,  and  for  a  long  time  assistant,  of  the  cele- 
l>i.-ited  astronomer,  Sir  William  Herschel,  was  born 
at  Hanover  on  the  16th  of  March,  1750.  She  is 

;t'<  I'M ini,rui>hed  for  her  astronomical  researches, 
and  particularly  for  the  construction  of  a  seleno- 
graphical  globe,  giving  in  relict'  the  surface  of  the 
moon.  But  it  was  for  her  brother,  Sir  William 

•hel,  that  tin-  activity  of  her  mind  was  awaken- 
ed. From  the  first  commencement  of  his  astro- 
nomical pursuit*,  her  attendance  on  both  his  daily 
labors  and  nightly  \vatchcs  was  put  in  requisition; 
and  was  found  so  useful,  that  on  his  removal  to. 
Datclict,  and  suli-i-ijiu-ntly  to  Slough' — he  boing 
thru  occupied  with  his  n-\ii"\vs  of  the  heavens  and 
other  rcM-archcs — she  performed  tin-  whole  of  the 
arduous  and  important  duties  ot'  his  astronomical 
assistant,  not  only  reading  the  cl«H-ks  and  noting 
down  all  the  observations  from  dictation  as  an 
amaniien>is,  but  subsequently  executing  the  whole 
of  the  extensive  and  laborious  numerical  calcula- 
tions necessary  to  render  them  available  to  science, 


238  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

as  well  as  a  multitude  of  others  relative  to  the 
various  objects  of  theoretical  and  experimental  in- 
quiry in  which,  during  his  long  and  active  career, 
he  at  any  time  engaged5.  For  the  performance  of 
these  duties,  his  majesty,  King  George  III.,  was 
pleased  to  place  her  m  the  receipt  of  a  salary  suffi- 
cient for  her  singularly  moderate  wants  and  retired 
habits. 

Arduous,  however,  as-  these  occupations  must 
appear,  especially  when  it  is  considered  that  her 
brother's  observations  were  always  carried  on  (cir- 
cumstances permitting)  till  daybreak,  without  re- 
gard to  season,  and  indeed  chiefly  in  the  winter, 
they  proved  insufficient  to  exhaust  her  activity. 
In  their  intervals  she  found  time  for  both  actual 
astronomical  observations  of  her  own,  and  for  the 
execution  of  more  than  one  work  of  great  extent 
and  utility. 

The  observations  here  alluded  to  were  made  wiith 
a  small  Newtonian  sweeper,  constructed  for  her  by 
her  brother  ;  with  which,  whenever  his  occasional 
absence,  or  any  interruption  to  the  regular  course 
of  his  observations  permitted,  she  searched  the 
heavens  for  comets,  and  that  so  effectively  as  on  no 
less  than  eight  several  occasions  to  be  rewarded 
by  their  discovery.  On  five  of  these  occasions  (re- 
corded in  the  pages  of  the  "  Philosophical  Trans- 
actions "  of  London)  her  claim  to  the  first  discov- 
ery is  admitted.  These  sweeps,  moreover,  proved 
productive  of  the  detection  of  several  remarkable 
nebulaB  and  clusters  of  stars  previously  unobserved, 


CAROLINE   LUCRETJA   HERSCHEL.  239 

amonir  which  may  be  specially  mentioned  the  su- 
perb Nebula,  No.  1,  Class  V.,  of  Sir  William  Her- 
schers  catalogues — nn  object  bearing  much  resem- 
blance to  the  celebrated  nebula  in  Andromeda,  dis- 
covered by  Simeon  Inarius. 

The  astronomical  works  which  she  found  leisure 
to  complete  were  1st.  "A  Catalogue  of  561  Stars 
observed  by  Flamsteed,"  but  which  having  escaped 
the  notice  of  those  who  framed  the  "  British  Cata- 
logue" from  that  astronomer's  observations,  are 
not  therein  inserted.  '2.  "A  (General  Index  of  Kef- 
en  -nee  to  every  Observation  of  every  Star  inserted 
in  the  British  Catalogue."  These  works  were  pub- 
lished together  in  one  volume  by  the  Royal  So- 
ciety ;  and  to  their  utility  in  subsequent  researches 
Mr.  Daily,  in  his  "  Life  of  Flamsteed,"  bears  am- 
ple testimony.  She  further  completed  the  reduc- 
tion and  arrangement  as  a  "  Zone  Catalogue  "  of  all 
the  nebulae  and  clusters  of  stars  observed  by  her 
brother  in  his  sweeps;  a  work  for  which  she  was 
honored  with  the  Gold  Medal  of  the  Astronomical 
Society  of  London,  in  1828;  which  society  also 
conferred  on  her  the  unusual  distinction  of  electing 
her  an  honorary  member. 

On  her  brother's  death,  in  1822,  she  returned  to 
Hanover,  which  she  never  again  quitted,  passing 
the  last  twenty-six  years  of  her  life  in  repose — en* 
joying  the  society  and  cherished  by  the  regard  of 
her  remaining  relatives  and  friends — gratified  by 
the  occasional  visits  of  eminent  astronomers — and 
honored  with  many  marks  of  favor  and  distinction 


240  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

on  the  part  of  the  King  of  Hanover,  the  crown 
prince,  and  his  amiable  and  illustrious  consort. 

Until  within  a  very  short  period  of  her  death, 
her  health  continued  uninterrupted,  her  faculties 
perfect,  and  her  memory  (especially  of  the  scenes 
and  circumstances  of  former  days)  remarkably  clear 
and  distinct.  Her  end  was  tranquil  and  free  from 
suffering — a  simple  cessation  of  life. 

The  writer  of  this  very  interesting  memoir  has, 
however,  omitted  to  state,  that  besides  being  an 
Honorary  Member  of  the  Royal  Astronomical  So- 
ciety, Miss  Herschel  was  also  similarly  honored  by 
the  Royal  Irish  Academy. 

The  following  just  and  eloquent  tribute  to  the 
merits  of  Miss  Herschel  is  from  Dr.  Nichol's 
"  Views  of  the  Architecture  of  the  Heavens :" 

"The  astronomer  (Sir  William  Herschel),  during 
these  engrossing  nights,  was  constantly  assisted  in 
his  labors  by  a  devoted  maiden  sister,  who  braved 
with  him  the  inclemency  of  the  weather — who 
heroically  shared  his  privations  that  she  might  par- 
ticipate in  his  delights — whose  pen,  we  are  told, 
committed  to  paper  his  notes  of  observations  as 
they  issued  from  his  lips.  '  She  it  was,'  says  the 
best  of  authorities,  '  who,  having  passed  the  nights 
near  the  telescope,  took  the  rough  manuscripts  to 
her  cottage  at  the  dawn  of  day,  and  produced  a 
fair  copy  of  the  night's  work  on  the  ensuing  morn- 
ing ;  she  it  was  who  planned  the  labor  of  each  suc- 
ceeding night,  who  reduced  every  observation, 
made  every  calculation,  and  kept  everything  in 


•!•   WILLIAM    IIKMntKL**   AUTKOXOMICAI.   AMIKTANT. 


ww  who  |il«»n«J  Ik.  Ubnr  ofnMk  retM.Jtnf  «%lii,  wjo  ndnnd 
l*li.«.  rn.1  k»[H»T.  nr  ih.nj  In  of>l»t  .  «b»  II  •».-  \'U«  ( 
!••  (>th>r  *a  I 


CAROLINE   LUCKETIA   HEBSCHEL.  241 

systematic  order,'  she  it  was — Miss  Caroline  Her- 
schel — who  helped  our  astronomer  to  gather  an 
imperishable  name.  This  venerable  lady  has  in  one 
K  -]H ct  been  more  fortunate  than  her  brother;  she 
has  lived  to  reap  the  full  harvest  of  their  joint 
glory.  Some  years  ago,  the  gold  medal  of  our 
•nomiral  Society  was  transmitted  to  her  to  her 
native  Hanover,  whither  she  removed  after  Sir 
"William's  death;  and  the  same  learned  society  has 
recently  inscribed  her  name  upon  its  roll ;  but  she 
has  been  rewarded  by  yet  more,  by  what  she  will 
value  beyond  all  earthly  pleasures;  she  has  lived 
to  see  her  favorite  nephew,  him  who  grew  up  under 
her  eye  unto  an  astronomer,  gather  around  him  the 
highest  hopes  of  scientific  Europe,  and  prove  him- 
self fully  equal  to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  his  fa- 
ther." 

In  1847,  she  celebrated  the  ninety-seventh  anni- 
versary of  her  birth,  when  the  King  of  Hanover 
sent  to  compliment  her,  the  Prince  and  Princess 
Royal  vi>ited  her;  and  the  latter  presented  her 
with  a  magnificent  arm-chair  embroidered  by  her- 
self; and  the  King  of  Prussia  sent  her  the  gold 
iin-dal  awarded  for  the  Extension  of  the  Sciences. 

Miss  Herschel  died  at  the  opening  of  the  follow- 
ing y«-ar,  January  9th,  1848,  crowned  with  the 
glory  which  woman's  genius  may  gain,  working  in 
the  way  Divine  Providence  appointed  her — as  the 
helper  of  man. 
16 


24-2  WOMEN  OF    WORTH. 


THE    QUIET    REFORMER. 

HANNAH  MORE. 

IN"  estimating  the  merits  of  distinguished  indi- 
viduals, our  opinion  must  obviously  be  modified  by 
a  knowledge  of  the  external  influences  to  which 
they  were  subjected.  According  as  the  tendency 
of  these  is  to  counteract  or  to  forward  their  aims, 
a  greater  or  less  tenacity  of  purpose  is  demanded. 
And  looking  at  the  whole  of  a  life,  this  is  a  quality 
that  has  more  to  do  with  greatness  than  may  at 
first  strike  us  ;  for  greatness  depends  not  so  much 
upon  the  possession  of  brilliant  talents,  as  upon 
steadiness  and  perseverance  in  pursuing  a  laudable 
object.  A  most  obstinate  struggle  with  circum- 
stances has  to  be  kept  up  by  such  as  would  rise  to 
eminence  from  the  humbler  walks  of  life ;  but  a 
contest  on  a  more  extended  scale  has  to  be  encoun- 
tered by  whosoever  aspires  to  be  a  reformer,  as  in 
this  case  the  obstacles  result  from  the  condition  of 
a  nation  or  of  society.  They  are  also  of  a  complex 
nature ;  the  reformer  has  first  to  disentangle  his 
own  mind  from  the  shackles  of  custom  and  preju- 
dice, and  next  undertake  the  same  task  for  others. 


HANNAH   MORE.  243 

Hannah  More  was  a  reformer;  we  conceive  one 
who  did  so  much,  by  example,  and  purse,  and  pen, 
toward  purifying  the  morality  and  advancing  the 
cause  of  religion  in  England,  to  be  well  worthy  of 
such  a  title,  and  all  the  greatness  it  implies.  It  is 
true  she  had  the  primary  advantage  of  a  sound 
and  religious  education,  and  was  thus  placed  so  as 
to  have  a  Pisgah-like  view  of  existing  defects ; 
but  next  to  the  difficulty  of  divesting  our  minds  of 
the  warpings  of  habit  and  popular  opinion,  is  that 
of  preventing  ourselves  from  being  caught  in  their 
meshes. 

Of  the  state  of  religious  knowledge,  even  amongst 
the  higher  classes,  in  the  days  of  Hannah  More,  we 
may  have  a  pretty  accurate  idea,  from  the  anecdote 
related  in  connection  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds' 
"Samuel."  When  this  celebrated  painting  was 
finished,  numerous  visitors  flocked  to  his  studio  to 
see  it,  and  amongst  them  were  several  who  pro- 
posed the  intelligent  question,  "Who  was  Samuel?" 
The  manners  and  morality  of  the  period  were  quite 
in  agreement  with  this;  and  though  it  is  by  no 
means  denied  that  there  were  many  fine  exivji- 
ti"ii>,  it  was  then  the  fash  ion  to  be  irreligious  and 
immoral.  Hannah  More,  when  little  above  twenty 
years  of  age,  was  taken  from  the  comparatively 
quiet  c-oteries  of  Bristol,  and  plunged  into  the 
-.vliirl  of  the  gay  world  of  London;  the  caresses 
ami  blandishments  of  the  witty,  the  great,  ami  the 
Irarned,  were  heaped  upon  her,  but  1  er  keen,  in- 
stinctive sense  of  right  was  in  no  degree  blunted, 


214  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

and  the  endeavors  of  the  world  to  win  her  to  its 
side  only  served  to  draw  forth  the  more  unequivo- 
cal declaration  of  her  principles.  These  principles, 
like  the  course  of  every  great  mind,  deepened  and 
widened  with  progressing  years.  We  find  her 
whose  first  essay  was  penned  with  the  design  of 
fostering  a  purer  morality,  gradually  increasing 
her  efforts  for  the  same  praiseworthy  end,  and 
by  and  by  retiring  from  the  vortex  of  fashion- 
able life,  to  devote  herself  to  the  study  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  composition  of  works  bearing 
more  immediately  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

Besides  her  literary  reputation,  Mrs.  Hannah 
More  was  eminent  for  her  piety  and  philanthropy ; 
so  much  so,  that,  although  she  had  not  obtained 
celebrity  by  her  writings,  her  memory  would  have 
been  deservedly  cherished  as  a  Christian  and  phil- 
anthropist. She  was  ever  prompt  to  originate  or 
help  forward  philanthropic  movements ;  she  wrote 
for  them — books  for  the  drawing-rooms  of  the 
great,  and  tracts  and  ballads  that  insinuated  them- 
selves into  the  workshops  of  the  town,  and  the 
cottages  of  the  country;  and  she  established  schools 
for  bestowing  the  blessings  of  education  and  a 
knowledge  of  the  truths  of  the  gospel  on  the  poor. 
She  was  considerate  and  liberal  to  that  class  during 
^her  lifetime,  and  at  her  death,  the  sums  bequeathed 
by  her  to  religious  and  charitable  institutions  were 
on  the  most  munificent  scale.  But  perhaps  the 
truest  and  most  touching  proof  of  her  generosity 
and  kindness  to  the  poor,  was  that  given  on  the 


HANNAH    MOKE.  245 

day  of  her  funeral,  when  each,  with  some  sem- 
blance of  mourning,  they  came  crowding  from 
village  and  hamlet  to  pay  a  last  tribute  to  their 
benefactress,  and  give  "all  they  had  to  give — a 
tear." 

In  reading  the  life  of  this  celebrated  person,  we 
cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  large  amount  of 
good  that  she  effected ;  and  yet  she  was  but  a 
"  lone  woman ;"  and,  in  addition  to  the  disadvan- 

-  pertaining  to  her  sex,  Mrs.  Hannah  More 
was  at  all  times  delicate  in  health,  and  subject  to 
very  frequent  illness.  In  consequence  of  this,  she 
was  deeply  impressed  with  the  evil  of  procrastina- 
tion, and  has  recorded  in  her  diary  how  necessary 
she  felt  it  to  be  to  prosecute  her  work  assiduously 
during  her  intervals  of  freedom  from  sickness. 
This  goes  to  prove  that  greatness,  in  general,  as 
well  as  success,  arises  less  from  the  possession  of 
^r«-:it  talents,  or  from  favorable  circumstances,  than 
the  selection  of  a  proper  aim,  and  the  resolution  to 
follow  it  unswervingly.  There  are  multitudes  of 
e\ani]>l<  ^  in  the  world,  of  a  stern  and  successful 

•;unee  of  divumstances  more  overwhelming 
than  any  u  «•  are  likely  to  encounter,  that  may 
semi  for  eaooongmg  and  ineiting  us  to  emulation. 
We  :ire  ili-jioscd  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the 
of  circumstances,  forgetting  that  we  are  to 
some  extent  the  originators  of  them.  Then  we 
c"iiM'K-r  thi>  a  capital  excuse  for  our  indolence;  it 
is  this  that  is  keeping  us  inactive;  we  are  waiting 
for  an  opening,  instead  cf  making  an  opening.  As 


24:6  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

for  a  favorable  opportunity,  it  is  vain  for  us  to 
plead  the  want  of  them ;  we  must  not  be  too  scru- 
pulous, but  seize  the  best  that  happens  to  come 
within  our  reach. 

Hannah  More  was  the  youngest  of  five  sisters, 
and  was  born  at  Stapleton,  in  Gloucestershire,  in 
the  year  1745.  Her  father  having  lost  his  money 
by  the  unfavorable  termination  of  a  lawsuit,  lived 
here  in  a  secluded  manner.  He  was  the  son  of  the 
former  master  of  an  endowed  school  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, who,  not  being  encumbered  with  a  super- 
abundance of  pupils,  had  plenty  of  leisure  to  "  rear 
the  tender  thought"  of  his  son.  He,  in  his  turn, 
"  kept  the  ball  moving,"  as  Franklin  says  of  kind- 
ness, and  devoted  his  time  to  the  education  of  his 
daughters ;  and  as  he  brought  a  highly  creditable 
amount  of  talents  and  learning  to  the  task,  and  had 
good  materials  to  work  upon,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  he  was  very  successful.  This  was  particularly 
the  case  with  Hannah,  who  was  a  somewhat  pre- 
cocious child,  and  her  aptness  in  the  acquisition  of 
the  first  principles  of  geometry,  and  the  rudiments 
of  Latin,  must  have  delighted  the  old  man,  and 
transformed  the  labor  of  instruction  into  a  pleasant 
relaxation.  The  bias  of  luer  tastes  very  eai'ly  dis- 
played itself:  one  of  her  childish  amusements  was 
riding  on  a  chair,  accompanied  by  the  announce- 
ment that  "  she  was  going  to  London  to  see  book- 
sellers and  bishops."  It  was  a  darling  object  of 
her  ambition  to  attain  to  the  possession  of  a  whole 
quire  of  paper,  and  when  some  friend  gratified  her 


HANNAH   MORE.  247 

wish,  it  was  speedily  tilled  with  letters  to  imaginary 
MlgM, 

The  tali-Tits  of  tin-  whole  family  were  so  much 
above  the  average  that  they  soon  attracted  atten- 
tion, and  under  the  auspices  of  Dr.  Stonehousc  and 
others,  the  Misses  More  established  a  day-school  in 
J  5i  i-tol :  tliis  shortly  alter  gave  place  to  a  boarding- 
school,  which  long  maintained  the  character  of 
being  one  of  the  best  and  most  flourishing  in  that 
j>:n  t  of  England.  To  this  school  Hannah  was  re- 
moved when  twelve  years  of  age,  and  eagerly 
availed  herself  of  the  means  of  extending  her  knowl- 
edge BOW  placed  within  her  reach.  She  acquired 
a  perfect  and  idiomatical  knowledge  of  the  French. 
and  afterward  of  the  Italian  and  Spanish  languages, 
n  at  this  early  period  her  conversational 
powers  were  so  fuM-innting  that  Dr.  WoodwanU 
an  eminent  scholar,  when  at  tending  her  in  his  med- 
ical capacity,  under  their  influence  on  one  occasion 
so  far  forgot  the  object  of  his  \isit,  that  he  was 
proceeding  down  stairs,  when,  suddenly  recollect- 
ing hiin<elf,  he  returned  to  the  room,  exclaiming, 
"Bless  me!  I  forgot  to  a>k  the  girl  how  she  is." 

In  the  year  17G2l  she  gave  her  first  literary  com- 
position to  the  world,  in  tin;  shape  of  a  pastoral 
drama,  entitled,  "The  Search  after  Happiness." 
Having  met  with  the  approval  of  Garrick,  Dr. 
Storehouse,  and  other  persons  of  literary  taste,  it 
was  i-Mi.-.l  from  tli.-  r.ri.«t«>l  pros,  ami  it<  p»pu- 
larity  was  so  great,  that  in  a  few  months  it  passed 
through  three  editions.  The  poem,  as  the  authoress 


248  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

informs  us,  had  for  its  object  "  an  earnest  wish  to 
furnish  a  substitute  for  the  very  improper  custom, 
which  then  prevailed,  of  allowing  plays,  and  these 
not  always  of  the  purest  kind,  to  be  acted  by  young 
ladies  in  boarding-schools." 

About  this  time  a  proposal  of  marriage  was 
made  to  her  by  a  landed  proprietor  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  and  though  Mr.  Turner  was  many  years 
her  senior,  his  offer  was  accepted,  and  she  resigned 
her  share  in  the  management  of  the  boarding- 
school.  Owing  to  various  circumstances,  however, 
the  engagement  was  broken  off,  and  although  the 
gentleman  soon  after  sought  to  renew  it,  the  lady 
would  not  give  her  consent.  Her  feelings  had  un- 
deniably been  trifled  with,  and  she  made  a  resolu- 
tion to  eschew  all  such  overtures  in  future.  It  is 
but  due  to  Mr.  Turner  to  state  that  he  settled  an 
annuity  on  her,  and  bequeathed  her  at  his  death 
the  sum  of  one  thousand  pounds.  Perhaps,  if  we 
knew  it,  the  lives  of  many  of  the  tea-bibbing,  scan- 
dal-mongering  class,  denominated  "old  maids," 
contain  a  little  episode  of  such  a  vexation,  and  such 
a  determination;  and  perhaps  the  secret  of  their 
railing  at  the  world  in  general  is  that  "  there  is  a 
Across  in  their  hearts." 

When  in  her  twenty-second  year,  Hannah  More 
.paid  her  visit  to  London,  and  returned  the  follow- 
ing year,  to  reside  for  a  short  time  with  the  Gar- 
ricks,  at  their  beautiful  retreat  at  Hampton.  Here 
she  became  acquainted  with  Johnson,  Burke,  Rey- 
nolds, and  others  of  the  elite  of  the  literary  world. 


HANNAH    MORE.  249 

The  great  moralist  in  part'u-ular  had  a  most  affec- 
tionate regard  for  her,  terming  her  "  Child,"  "  Lit- 
tle Fool,"  "Love,"  and  "Dearest."  One  of  her 
si-ters,  in  writing  home,  gives  the  following  inter- 
e>tiiiLr  account  of  a  conversation  between  herself 
and  Johnson.  "After  much  critical  discourse,  he 
turns  round  to  me,  and  with  one  of  his  most  ami- 
able looks,  which  must  be  seen  to  form  the  least 
idea  of  it,  he  says,  'I  have  heard  that  you  are  en- 
gaged in  the  useful  and  honorable  employment  of 
teaching  young  ladies;'  upon  which,  with  all  the 
same  ease,  familiarity,  and  confidence  as  we  should 
have  done,  had  only  our  own  Dr.  Stonehouse  been 
present,  we  entered  upon  the  history  of  our  birth, 
parentairf,  and  education,  showing  how  we  were 
born  with  more  desires  than  guineas,  and  how,  as 
years  increased,  our  appetites  inerea-t-d  al-o,  the 
cupboard  at  home  being  too  small  to  gratify  them  ; 
and  how,  with  a  bottle  of  water,  a  bed,  and  a 
blanket,  we  set  out  to  seek  our  fortunes;  and  how 
•we  found  a  great  hou<e  with  nothing  in  it;  and 
how  it  was  like  to  remain  so,  till  looking  into  our 
knowledge-box,  we  happened  to  find  a  little  lim- 
ing, a  good  tiling  when  land  i-  pun-,  or  rather 
when  there  is  none ;  and  so,  at  last,  by  giving  a 
little  of  this  little  A//W//y  to  those  who  had  less, 
we  got  a  good  store  of  gold  in  return,  but  how! 
alas!  we  wanted  the  wit  to  keep  it.  'I  love  you 
both,'  cried  the  inamorato;  'I  love  you  all  five.  I 
r  was  at  Bristol — I  will  come  on  purpose  to 
see  you.  What !  five  women  live  happily  toget  her ! 


250  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

I  will  come  and  see  you.  I  have  spent  a  happy 
evening — I  am  glad  I  came.  God  for  ever  bless 
you ;  you  live  to  shame  duchesses.'  He  took  his 
leave  with  so  much  warmth  and  tenderness,  we 
were  quite  affected  at  his  manner."  In  what  an 
amiable  light  does  the  gi-eat  moralist  appear  in  such 
an  anecdote  as  this;  and  Madame  D'Arblay,  an- 
other of  his  pets,  has  many  similar  in  her  gossiping 
diary ;  and  with  all  his  faults,  can  we  help  loving 
him  still  ? 

In  the  midst  of  the  adulation  which  was  now 
lavished  on  the  youthful  authoress,  it  is  most  grati- 
fying to  find  her  writing  thus  to  one  of  her  sisters : 
"  For  my  own  part,  the  more  I  see  of  the  honored, 
famed,  and  great,  the  more  I  see  of  the  littleness, 
the  unsatisfactoriness  of  all  created  good,  and  that 
no  earthly  pleasure  can  fill  up  the  wants  of  the 
immortal  principle  within,"  After  her  return  to 
Bristol,  she  produced  two  short  poems — "  The 
Bleeding  Rock,"  and  "Sir  Eldred  of  the  Bower;" 
the  latter  a  moral  tale  hi  two  parts,  in  the  ballad 
style.  A  handsome  sum  was  paid  for  these  pieces 
by  Mr.  Caddell,  and  their  success  was  so  great, 
that  a  thousand  copies  were  sold  in  a  fortnight. 
She  now  plumed  her  wing  for  a  higher  flight,  and 
the  direction  which  it  took  was  no  doubt  influenced 
by  her  intimacy  with  the  Garricks,  as  well  as  the 
success  of  her  pastoral  drama.  "  The  Inflexible 
Captive,"  a  regular  piece  in  five  acts,  appeared  in 
1774,  and  on  its  performance  in  the  theatre  at  Bath 
was  favorably  received.  It  is  founded  on  the  well- 


HANNAH   MOUI :.  951 

known  classical  story  of  llejrnlus,  the  Unman  am- 
bassador to  Cartilage,  and  displays  considerable 
]><»\\  -er.  There  art-  many  line  passages,  and  the  in- 
t  i-  -u-taiiied  throughout. 

Within  the  three-  following  years  the  two  trage- 
>!  ••  1 Vivy"  ;m<l  the  "Fatal  False-hood"  were 
produced;  the  former  was  deservedly  the  most 
popular  of  Miss  More's  dramatic  works.  It  greatly 
exceeds  "The  Inflexible  Captive"  in  point  of  dram- 
atic intere-t  ;  the  various  characters  are  brought 
out  with  mueh  clearness  and  precision;  and  that 
of  El wina  is  a  particularly  fine  sketch. 

In  the  year  1780,  Miss  Hannah  More  paid  an- 
other visit  to  London,  during  which  she  resided  at 
the  house  of  the  amiable  and  accomplished  widow 
of  Dean  Delany,  and  had  the  privilege  of  enlarging 
tlu-  number  of  her  literary  acquaintances,  which,  in 
addition  to  many  di-tini;ui-hed  prelates,  now  in- 
cluded the  names  of  Walpole,  Jenyns,  Pepys,  Mrs. 
Boscaweu,  Mrs.  Chapone,  and  Mrs.  Carter.  About 
this  time  she  published  a  small  rolume  in  prose,  en- 
titled "Kssays  for  Young  Ladies,"  now  very  scarce, 
and  a  volume  of  "Sacred  Dramas"  These  dramas 
greatly  esteemed,  and  a  specimen  of  a  trans- 
lation of  one  of  them  into  the  Cingalese  language, 
was  presented  to  the  authoress,  written  on  a  Pal- 
myra leaf,  and  enclosed  in  a  beautifully-painted 
wooden  case.  Nor  was  this  the  only  instance  of 
her  works  bcinii  read  in  countries  where  one  would 
little  expect  them  to  have  found  their  way,  for  a 
.in  princess,  who  had  procured  some  of  her 


232  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

short  tracts,  translated  them  into  Russ,  and  wrote 
a  complimentary  letter  to  the  authoress. 

We  have  hitherto  traced  the  career  of  Hannah 
More  merely  as  a  popular  authoress,  who  was 
gradually  gaining  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  public ; 
but  the  time  was  now  come  when  the  results  of 
her  careful  education  in  the  truths  of  the  Christian 
religion,  and  the  influence  which  those  principles 
possess  over  every  well-constituted  mind,  were  to  be 
more  broadly  manifested.  The  death  of  her  friend 
Garrick  severed  the  strongest  link  between  her  and 
the  dramatic  world,  and  the  sense  of  the  hollo wness 
of  worldly  enjoyments  pressed  upon  her  mind  with 
ever-increasing  force.  She  had  all  along  retained 
her  native  simplicity  of  character,  and  the  adulation 
that  was  lavished  on  her  had  left  as  little  trace  as 
water  on  the  plumage  of  a  bird:  she  had  never 
suffered  herself  to  be  intoxicated  by  the  pleasures 
of  the  world ;  and  what  a  testimony  it  is  to  their 
unsatisfactoriness,  that  they  palled  upon  the  taste 
of  one  who  had  enjoyed  those  of  the  most  refined 
description,  and  always  with  a  due  regard  to  mode- 
ration. The  cast  of  her  mind  was  eminently  prac- 
tical ;  this  was  evidenced  as  early  as  the  time  that 
her  juvenile  pastoral,  "The  Search  after  Happiness," 
was  produced,  for,  as  we  have  stated,  it  sprang  from 
a  nobler  wish  than  a  youthful  love  of  notoriety. 
Even  the  three  most  ambitious  effusions  of  her 
dramatic  muse  were  not  written  as  mere  passports 
to  fame.  Her  own  reading,  and  the  society  in 
which  she  mingled  at  that  period,  gave  her  thoughts 


II  ANN  AH    MORE.  253 

a  strong  bent  toward  the  stage ;  but  she  viewed  it 
not  only  as  an  entertainment,  but  as  a  powerful 
of  the  hoart,  and  one  which  she  hoped  to 
enlist  on  the  side  of  virtue.  H«r  plays  were  written 
under  that  impression,  though  in  after  years  she 
abandoned  the  hope  of  metamorphosing  the  theatre 
into  a  school  of  virtue,  and  became  convinced  that 
'•this  Utopian  good  could  not  be  produced,  until 
not  only  the  stage  itself  had  undergone  a  complete 
purification,  but  until  the  audience  was  purified 
also." 

In  conformity  with  her  desire  of  withdrawing 
more  from  the  world,  Hannah  More,  in  1786,  pur- 
chased a  neat  cottage  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bris- 
tol, called  Cowslip  Green.  Xaught  of  ascetism, 
however,  entered  into  her  ideas  of  retirement;  she 
who  had  tasted  wisely  and  temperately  of  the 
pleasures  of  society,  partook  in  etjual  moderation 
ot'  the  ?-uct-ts  of  seclusion.  Her  annual  vi-iu  to 
her  friend,  Mrs.  ( larriek,  in  London,  were  still  con- 
tinued, and  from  time  to  time  she  indulged  in  in- 
tercourse with  the  most  eminent  literary  characters 
of  the  day. 

Theology  had  even  in  early  life  been  one  of  her 
favorite  studies,  and  she  gladly  embraced  the  op- 
portunity now  afforded  her  of  prosecuting  it  with 
greater  \iur->r.  Two  years  after  her  retreat  to 
-lip  Green,  she  published  a  small  tract,  enti- 
tled, "Thoughts  on  the  Manners  of  the  Great." 
followed  in  the  same  year  by  a  poem  on  "Slavery." 

About  ten  miles  distant  from  the  residence  of 


WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Miss  Hannah  More  and  her  sisters,  lay  the  village 
of  Chedder.  It  is  picturesquely  situated  at  the 
mouth  of  a  narrow  ravine  in  the  Mendip  Hills ; 
close  to  the  town,  fantastically-shaped  cliffs  of 
lime-stone  shoot  abruptly  upward,  to  the  height  of 
several  hundreds  of  feet ;  and  those  who  penetrate 
into  the  gorge,  which  extends  for  nearly  three 
miles,  are  rewarded  by  a  display  of  the  grandest 
rocky  scenery  in  all  "  merry  England."  The  coun- 
try around  is  rich  pasture-land ;  and  the  dairies 
have  long  been  celebrated  for  their  cheese,  which 
in  the  days  of  Camden  was  so  good  and  so  great, 
that  it  required  more  than  one  man  to  hoist  a 
cheese  on  to  the  table.  But  it  was  not  the  garden- 
like  fertility  of  the  country,  nor  the  romantic  beauty 
of  the  village,  that  drew  toward  it  the  notice  of 
Hannah  More.  The  rural  population  of  this  fine 
district  were  in  a  state  of  terrible  demoralization, 
which  will  be  best  described  by  the  following  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  of  Miss  More  to  her  friend  Wil- 
berforce:  "We  found  more  than  two  thousand 
people  in  the  parish,  almost  all  very  poor;  no 
gentry;  a  dozen  wealthy  farmers,  hard,  brutal,  and 
ignorant.  We  saw  but  one  Bible  in  all  the  parish, 
and  that  was  used  to  prop  a  flower-pot.  No  cler- 
gyman had  resided  in  it  for  forty  years.  One  rode 
over,  three  miles  from  Wells,  to  preach  once  on  a 
Sunday,  but  no  weekly  duty  was  done,  or  sick 
persons  visited;  and  children  were  often  buried 
without  any  funeral  service.  Eight  persons  in  the 


HANNAH    MOKE.  255 

morning,  and  twenty  in  the  afternoon,  was  a  good 
congn-gatioM."  But, 

"  For  man's  neglect,  the  loved  it  more." 

A  wide  field  was  extended  on  which  to  exert  her 
energies,  and  nobly  she  and  her  two  sisters  labored 
in  the  jHM-formance  of  their  self-appointed  work. 

The  influence  which  the  French  Revolution  ex- 
•  1  •  'ii  the  lower  classes  in  this  country  induced 
her  to  publish  a  tract,  entitled  "Village  Politics, 
in  a  Dialogue  between  two  Mechanics."  The  sale 
and  circulation  of  this  little  work  were  astonishing, 
and  led  her,  in  1795,  to  commence  a  regular  series, 
which  was  issued  monthly  from  Hath,  under  the 
name  of  the  "  Cheap  Repository  Tracts."  During 
th»-  same  year,  which  was  one  of  horror  and  com- 
motion abroad,  and  anxiety  and  scarcity  at  home, 
her  purse  and  hand  were  no  less  readily  opened  to 
relieve  the  one,  than  her  pen  had  been  used  to 
counteract  the  influence  of  the  other.  At  her  hos- 
pitable door  the  poor  were  supplied  with  soup  and 
food,  and  every  m.-nns  in  her  power  were  taken  to 
assist  them,  and  mitigate  their  suflerings.  Nor 
W08  her  liberality  re-trictcd  to  her  own  count  rv- 
men,  for  the  sum  of  £240,  the  pn«v« ••!•.  <.f  a  publi- 
cation, "  Remarks  on  a  Production  of  M.  Dupont, 
a  French  Athci>t,"  was  devoted  to  the  relief  of  the 
French  emigrant  clergy,  who  Hocked  in  con>ider- 
able  numbers  to  our  shores. 

In  the  year  1700,  Hannah  More  (who  now  as- 
sumed the  title  of  Mrs.)  wrote  her  "Strictures  on 


256  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

the  Modern  System  of  Female  Education."  From 
some  of  the  opinions  advanced  in  this  work,  and 
from  the  opposition  to  her  schools  reviving  in  a 
quarter  where  it  might  least  have  been  expected, 
Mrs.  More  was  subjected  to  a  series  of  calumni- 
ations and  persecutions  that  would  have  been  try- 
ing to  a  person  of  ordinary  sensibility,  and  must 
have  been  severely  so  to  a  woman  who  was  desirous 
of  living  as  much  in  retirement  as  was  compatible 
with  the  schemes  of  usefulness  she  sought  to  carry 
out. 

Mrs.  More,  in  1 802,  changed  her  residence  from 
Cowslip  Green  to  Barley  Wood — beautiful  Barley 
"Wood — familiar  to  every  one  as  a  household  name. 
To  this  charming  retreat,  where  she  dwelt  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  crowds  of  the  wisest,  greatest, 
and  best  congregated  to  visit  her.  It  was  proposed 
at  this  period  to  commit  to  her  the  superinten- 
dence of  the  education  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  of 
Wales.  This  scheme  was  not  carried  into  effect, 
but  it  probably  led  to  the  publication,  in  1805,  of 
two  volumes,  "  Hints  towards  Forming  the  Char- 
acter of  a  Young  Princess."  This  work,  which 
was  anonymous,  procured  the  author  the  flattering 
compliment  of  several  letters  from  the  heads  of  the 
church,  beginning  and  ending  with  "  Sir."  It  was 
dedicated  to  Dr.  John  Fisher,  bishop  of  Exeter, 
then  tutor  to  her  Royal  Highness,  and  he  brought 
it  under  the  notice  of  her  Majesty,  who  signified 
her  gracious  approval  of  it.  A  few  years  after- 
ward, the  novel  of  "  Ccelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife  " 


HANNAH  MORE.  257 

came  out,  in  two  volumes,  and,  like  its  predecessor, 
without  the  author's  name.  "The  discerning  pub- 
lic," however,  were  not  slow  in  attributing  it  to  its 
proper  source.  This  novel  achieved  a  wide  popu- 
larity. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  theology  and 
scriptural  subjects  possessed  great  attractions  in 
the  estimation  of  Mrs.  More,  and  she  now  gave  to 
tlio  world  some  of  the  fruits  of  her  studies.  She 
printed,  in  1811,  a  very  excellent  treatise,  entitled, 
"  Practical  Piety;  or,  the  Influence  of  the  Religion 
of  the  Heart  on  the  Conduct  of  Life  ;"  and  the 
succeeding  year,  a  work  on  "Christian  Morals." 
In  the  preface  to  the  last,  she  tendered  her  thanks 
to  the  public  for  their  long-continued  patronage, 
apologized  for  another  appearance  as  an  authoress, 
and  bade  them  adieu  in  that  capacity.  We  know 
not  what  Joshua  Geddes,  or  those  of  his  sect, 
would  have  said  to  the  "  taking  back  her  word," 
which  followed  thereupon ;  but  the  public  in  general 
had  reason  to  esteem  it  a  fortunate  circumstance, 
and  surely  such  sensible  people  as  the  Society  of 
Friends  would  be  of  the  same  opinion.  It  was  in- 
deed one  of  her  grandest  literary  performances  that 
she  gave  to  the  world  in  1815,  under  the  title  of 
"  An  Essay  on  the  Character  and  Writings  of  St. 
Paul."  The  design  of  this  work  was  to  delineate 
the  alluring  features  of  the  Christian  life,  as  they 
were  displayed  in  the  conduct  of  the  apostle,  "for 
a  pattern  to  them  which  should  hereafter  l>di 
In  the  year  1819,  she  printed  another  work,  "Moral 
17 


258  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Sketches  of  Prevailing  Opinions  and  Manners, 
Foreign  and  Domestic,  with  Reflections  on  Prayer," 
forming  a  sequel  to  her  "Practical  Piety,"  and 
"  Christian  Morals."  The  sale  of  this  publication 
also  was  extensive  and  speedy,  though  it  was  for 
the  most  part  merely  a  collection  of  sketches  from 
real  life,  which  had  formerly  made  their  appearance 
in  the  pages  of  the  "  Christian  Observer." 

We  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  transcribing 
here  a  portion  of  a  letter  which  gives  a  most 
graphic  picture  of  the  occupant  of  Barley  Wood 
at  this  period  of  her  life : — 

"  I  was  much  struck  by  the  air  of  affectionate 
kindness  with  which  the  old  lady  welcomed  me  to 
«  Barley  Wood ;  there  was  something  of  courtliness 
about  it,  at  the  same  time  the  courtliness  of  the 
vieille  cour  which  one  reads  of,  but  so  seldom  meets. 
Her  dress  was  of  light  green  Venetian  silk ;  a  yel- 
low, richly  embroidered  crape  shawl  enveloped  her 
shoulders ;  and  a  pretty  net  cap,  tied  under  her  chin 
with  white  satin  ribbon,  completed  the  costume. 
Her  figure  is  singularly  petite ;  but  to  have  any 
idea  of  the  expression  of  her  countenance,  you 
must  imagine  the  small  withered  face  of  a  woman 
in  her  eighty-seventh  year;  and  imagine  also 
(shaded,  but  not  obscured,  by  long  and  perfectly 
white  eyelashes)  eyes  dark,  brilliant,  flashing,  and 
penetrating  ;  sparkling  from  object  to  object  with 
all  the  fire  and  energy  of  youth,  and  smiling  wel- 
come on  all  around. 

"When  I  first  entered  the  room,  Lady  S 


HANNAH   MORE.  259 

and  her  family  were  there ;  they  soon  prepared  to 
depart ;  but  the  youngest  boy,  a  fine  little  fellow 
of  six,  looked  anxiously  in  Mrs.  More's  face  after 
she  had  kissed  him,  and  his  mamma  said,  'Yon 
will  not  forget  Mrs.  Hannah,  my  dear?'  lie  shook 
his  head.  *  Do  not  forget  me,  my  dear  child,1 
said  the  kind  oKl  lady,  assuming  a  playful  manner ; 
'but  they  say  your  sex  is  naturally  capricious. 
There,  I  will  give  you  another  kiss;  keep  it  for 
my  sate,  and  when  you  are  a  man,  remember  Han- 
nah More.'  —  '  I  will,'  he  replied,  'remember  that 
you  loved  children.'  It  was  a  beautiful  compli- 
ment." 

Mrs.  More  was  now  doomed  to  experience  the 
sorrowful  compensation  that  must  be  paid  for  a 
life  prolonged  to  the  verge  of  fourscore  and  ten 
years.  Of  the  five  talented  Mores — the  five  women 
who,  to  Dr.  Johnson's  amazement,  lived  happily 
together — Hannah  was  the  sole  representative;  her 
r  Sarah  having  died  in  1817,  and  her  favorite 
ratty,  two  years  later.  A»d  beside  those  mem- 
bers of  her  "\vn  family,  there  were  many  losses  to 
be  bewailed  of  those  friends  with  whom,  in  other 
years,  >he  ha.l  u  taken  sweet  counsel  together." 
A-  she  herself  remarked  to  a  visitor,  "Johnson, 
Burke,  Garrick,  Reynold-,  Porteous — all — all  the 
associates  of  my  youth  are  gone." 

"  Tet  when  a*  one  by  one  sweet  sounds 

And  wandering  lights  departed, 
Sfa  wore  no  less  a  loving  face, 
Although  so  broken  hearted." 


260  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

Her  own  health  was  decidedly  failing,  but, 
though  she  had  become  so  infirm  as  to  be  unable 
to  leave  her  room,  her  mind  had  lost  none  of  its 
accustomed  vigor,  and,  in  1822,  she  occupied  her- 
self during  an  illness  with  preparing  for  the  press 
a  small  volume  on  Prayer.  With  this  work  she 
laid  aside  for  ever  the  powerful  pen  that  had  been 
wielded  so  well  to  "  defend  the  right ;"  but  there 
still  lingered  for  a  season,  the  eloquence  of  the  lips 
and  of  the  life.  And  eloquent  indeed  those  must 
have  been  to  all  who  heard  and  saw  her,  standing 
as  she  was  "  in  the  shadow  of  coming  death ;"  and 
inconceivably  "sublime  and  sublimating"  must 
have  been  the  shadow  that  coming  events  cast  be- 
fore it,  over  her  who  had  left  behind  a  long  vista 
of  years  spent  in  glorifying  God,  and  doing  good 
to  man. 

In  consequence  of  the  disgraceful  conduct  of  her 
servants,  which  was  accidentally  discovered  by  a 
visitor,  Mrs.  More  considered  it  advisable  to  leave 
her  much-loved  haunt  of  Barley  Wood,  and  take 
up  her  abode  at  Clifton,  whither  she  removed  in 
1825.  Mrs.  Hannah  More  lived  hi  Clifton  for  sev- 
eral years  after  this  event,  honored,  respected,  and 
beloved  by  all  about  her ;  as  how  could  they  choose 
but  love  one  who  was  "  cheerful  as  the  day,"  and 
had  such  depths  of  tenderness  hi  her  dark  eyes,  or 
else  her  portrait  sadly  belies  her  ?  But  her  long 
and  useful  life  was  drawing  to  a  close.  She  became 
more  and  more  subject  to  catarrhal  attacks,  and, 
during  the  winter  months  of  1832,  had  occasional 


HANNAH    MORE.  261 

paroxysms  of  delirium.  The  account  of  her  last 
illness  is  thus  given  by  an  eye-witness:— 'During 
tlii-  illness  often  months,  the  time  was  passed  in  a 
M  lit-s  of  alternations  between  restlessness  and  com- 
re,  Feng  sleeps  and  long  wakefulness,  with  oc- 
casional great  excitements,  elevated  and  sunken 
spirits.  At  length  nature  seemed  to  shrink  from 
further  conflict,  and  the  time  of  her  deliverance. 
drew  near.  On  Friday,  the  6th  of  September, 
1833,  we  offered  up  the  morning  family  devotion 
by  her  bedside ;  she  was  silent,  and  apparently  at- 
tentive,  with  her  hands  devoutly  lifted  up.  From 
eight  in  the  evening  of  this  day  till  nearly  nine,  I 
sat  watching  her.  Her  lace  was  smooth  and  glow- 
ing ;  there  was  an  unusual  brightness  in  its  expres- 
sion. At  about  ten,  the  symptoms  of  speedy  de- 
parture could  not  be  doubted.  She  fell  into  a 
dozing  sleep,  and  slight  convulsions  succeeded, 
which  seemed  to  be  attended  with  no  pain.  Con- 
trary to  expectation,  she  survived  the  night.  She 
continued  till  ten  minutes  after  one,  when  I  saw  the 
last  gentle  breath  escape,  and  one  more  w:»s  a>Me«l 
'to  that  multitude  which  no  man  can  number,  who 
siiiir  the  prai-<;s  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  for  ever 
ami  ev.-r.'" 

Her  remains  were  interred  on  the  13th  of  Sep- 
tember, beside  those  of  her  si>ters,  in  the  church- 
yard ofWrington,  not  far  from  the  grave  of  Locke. 
It  was  her  own  wish  that  her  funeral  should  be 
private,  ami  that,  instead  of  money  being  expended 
in  useless  show,  suits  of  mourning  should  be  given 


262  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

to  fifteen  old  men,  whom  she  nominated.  The 
bells  of  all  the  churches  were  tolled  as  the  cortege 
passed  through  Bristol,  and  a  short  distance  from 
Wrington  the  whole  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood joined  the  procession.  But  perhaps  the 
most  affecting  part  of  all  the  pageant  was  the  lines 
of  weeping  villagers  formed  on  each  side  of  the 
road,  every  one  in  the  nearest  approximation  to 
mourning  that  poverty  would  allow. 


ANN    1  1  AXMAX.  263 


THE  SCULPTOR'S  ASSISTANT. 

ANN  FLAXMAN, 

WIFE  of  John  Flaxman,  the  celebrated  sculptor, 
deserves  a  place  among  distinguished  women,  for 
the  admirable  manner  in  which  she  devoted  herself 
to  sustain  her  husband's  genius,  and  aid  him  in  his 
arduous  career. 

Her  maiden  name  was  Denman:  she  married 
John  Flaxman  when  he  was  about  twenty-seven 
years  old,  and  she  twenty-two.  They  had  been  for 
some  time  mutually  attached  to  each  other ;  but  he 
was  poor  in  purse,  and  though  on  the  road  to  fame, 
had  no  one  but  this  chosen  partner  of  his  life  who 
sympathized  in  his  success.  She  was  amiable  and 
accomplished,  had  a  taste  for  art  and  literature, 
was  skilful  in  French  and  Italian,  and,  like  her  hus- 
band, had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  the  Greek. 
But  what  was  better  than  all,  she  was  an  enthusi- 
astic admirer  of  his  genius — she  cheered  and  en- 
couraged him  in  his  moments  of  despondency — 
regulated  modestly  and  prudently  his  domestic 
economy — arranged  his  drawings — managed  now 
and  then  his  correspondence,  and  acted  in  all  par- 


264  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

ticulars  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  church,  in  per- 
forming a  marriage,  had  accomplished  a  miracle, 
and  blended  them  really  into  one  flesh  and  one 
blood.  That  tranquility  of  mind,  so  essential  to 
those  who  live  by  thought,  was  of  his  household ; 
and  the  sculptor,  happy  in  the  company  of  one 
who  had  taste  and  enthusiasm,  soon  renewed  with 
double  zeal  the  studies  which  courtship  and  matri- 
mony had  for  a  time  interrupted.  He  had  never 
doubted  that  in  the  company  of  her  whom  he  loved 
he  should  be  able  to  work  with  an  intenser  spirit ; 
but  of  another  opinion  was  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 
"  So,  Flaxman,"  said  the  President,  one  day  as  he 
chanced  to  meet  him,  "  I  am  told  you  are  married ; 
if  so,  sir,  I  tell  you  you  are  ruined  for  an  artist." 
Flaxman  went  home,  sat  down  beside  his  wife, 
took  her  hand,  and  said,  with  a  smile,  "I  am 
ruined  for  an  artist."  "John,"  said  she,  "how 
has  this  happened,  and  who  has  done  it?"  "It 
happened,"  said  he,  "  in  the  church,  and  Ann  Den- 
man  has  done  it :  I  met  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  just 
now,  and  he  said  marriage  had  ruined  me  in  my 
profession." 

For  a  moment  a  cloud  hung  on  Flaxman's  brow; 
but  this  worthy  couple  understood  each  other  too 
well,  to  have  their  happiness  seriously  marred  by 
the  unguarded  and  peevish  remark  of  a  wealthy 
old  bachelor.  They  were  proud,  determined  peo- 
ple, who  asked  no  one's  advice,  who  shared  their 
domestic  secrets  with  none  of  their  neighbors,  and 
lived  as  if  they  were  unconscious  that  they  were  in 


ANN    FLA  X.MAN.  265 

the  midst  of  a  luxurious  city.  "Ann,"  said  the 
sculptor,  "  I  have  long  thought  that  I  could  rise  to 
di>tinetion  in  art  without  studying  in  Italy,  but 
these  words  of  Reynolds  have  determined  me.  I 
shall  go  to  Rome  as  soon  as  my  affairs  are  fit  to  be 
left;  and  to  show  him  that  wedlock  is  tor  a  man's 
good  rather  than  his  harm,  you  shall  accompany 
me.  If  I  remain  here,  I  shall  be  accused  of  igno- 
rance concerning  those  noble  works  of  art  which 
are  to  the  sight  of  a  sculptor  what  learning  is  to  a 
man  of  genius,  and  you  will  lie  under  the  charge 
of  detaining  me."  In  this  resolution  Mrs.  Flaxman 
fully  concurred.  They  resolved  to  prepare  them- 
selves in  >ilence  for  the  journey,  to  inform  no  one 
of  their  intentions,  and  to  set,  meantime,  a  still 
stricter  wateh  over  their  expenditure.  No  a>*i-t- 
ance  was  proflercd  by  the  Academy,  nor  was  any 
asked  ;  and  five  years  elapsed  from  the  day  of  the 
nieiiioraMe  speech  of  the  president,  before  Flax- 
man, by  incessant  study  and  labor,  had  accumu- 
lated the  means  of  departing  for  Italy.  They  went 
together;  and  in  all  his  subsequent  labors  and 
triumphs,  the  wife  was  his  good  angel. 

For  thirty-eight  years  Flaxman  lived  wedded — 
his  health  was  generally  good,  his  spirits  ever 
equal;  and  his  wife,  to  whom  his  fame  was  happi- 
ness, had  been  always  at  his  side.  She  was  a  most 
cln  t-rful,  intelligent  woman;  a  collector,  too,  of 
drawings  and  >k«  tclu  s,  and  an  admirer  of  Stothard, 
of  whose  designs  and  prints  she  had  amassed  more 
than  a  thousand.  Her  husband  paid  her  the  double 


266  "WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

respect  due  to  affection  and  talent ;  and  when  any 
difficulty  in  composition  occurred,  he  would  say, 
with  a  smile,  "Ask  Mrs.  Flaxman,  she  is  my  dic- 
tionary." She  maintained  the  simplicity  and  dig- 
nity of  her  husband,  and  refused  all  presents  of 
paintings,  or  drawings,  or  books,  unless  some  recip- 
rocal interchange  were  made.  It  is  almost  need- 
less to  say  that  Flaxman  loved  such  a  woman  very 
tenderly.  The  hour  of  their  separation  approached 
— she  fell  ill,  and  died  in  the  year  1820 ;  and  from 
the  time  of  this  bereavement,  something  like  a 
lethargy  came  over  his  spirit,  although  he,  as  his 
biographer  remarks,  was  "surrounded  with  the 
applause  of  the  world."  He  surrived  his  wife  six 
years. 


MRS.    WORDSWORTH.  267 


THE    POET'S    COMPANION. 

MRS.  WORDSWORTH. 

[rmO*   A   HMMOV  rUACBKD  IX   WBSTMIJCSTER    ADIJCY  OX  TBB  SCTfDAT 
AFTER   UEK   DKATU.] 

"There  b«  M>me  ttaading  here  that  shall  not  taste  of  death." 

MATT.  xvi.  S3. 

LET  us  not  imagine  that  these  words  are  appli- 
cable merely  to  eminent  saints  and  martyrs.  They 
are  realized  every  day  and  every  hour,  in  the 
peaceful  dissolution  of  all  who  depart  hence  in  the 
true  faith  and  fear  of  God. 

Far  be  from  us,  my  brethren,  the  spirit  of  irrev- 
erent curiosity,  which  pries  into  the  sanctities  of 
private  death-beds,  and  reveals  their  secrets  to  the 
world.  But  when  Almighty  God  takes  to  himself 
the  spirits  of  just  men  and  holy  women,  and  when: 
their  mortal  remains  are  consigned  to  the  peaceful 
chambers  of  the  tomb,  in  the  hope  of  a  glorious 
resurrection,  then  Christian  piety  loves  to  linger  at 
their  graves,  and  to  ponder  on  the  lessons  of  wis- 
dom which  may  bo  learnt  from  their  examples. 
Bear  with  me,  therefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  in 
making  hero  a  passing  allusion  to  one  who  de- 


268  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

parted  this  life  in  the  bygone  week,  full  of  years 
and  good  works,  and  whose  body  now  rests  in 
peace  by  the  side  of  a  mountain  stream,  in  a  quiet 
country  churchyard. 

Let  me  be  permitted  to  invite  yon  to  meditate 
for  a  few  moments  by  the  side  of  that  grave.  It 
is  not  the  grave  of  a  soldier,  illustrious  for  heroic 
deeds,  it  is  not  the  grave  of  a  statesman,  distin- 
guished by  political  wisdom  and  brilliant  elo- 
quence; it  is  not  the  grave  of  any  of  the  noble 
or  great  of  this  world ;  but  it  is  the  grave  of  an 
aged  widow,  who  lived  in  retirement  in  a  beautiful 
spot,  in  a  fair  region  of  our  own  land ;  and  it  is 
not  for  any  personal  purpose,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  public  lessons  of  religious  wisdom  which  may 
thence  be  derived,  that  you  are  now  invited  to 
pause  for  a  moment  there. 

She  was  the  wife  of  an  English  poet,  who  ap- 
peared before  the  world  at  the  close  of  the  last  cen- 
tury— one  whose  poems  were  at  first  received  with 
cold  indifference  or  disdainful  scorn,  except  by 
some  few  prophetic  spirits  who  acknowledged  their 
value  and  augured  their  fame — one  who,  nothing 
daunted  by  harsh  judgments  and  rash  censures, 
not  cast  down  by  despondency,  not  irritated  by 
obloquy,  not  brooding  in  sullen  moodiness  over  his 
own  ill-requited  labors — but,  conscious  of  the  secret 
breathings  of  poetic  inspiration  stirring  within  him, 
toiled  on  calmly  and  quietly,  devoting  the  intellec- 
tual gifts  he  had  received  from  God  to  the  glory 
of  the  great  Giver,  and  to  the  welfare  of  human 


MK8.    WORD6WOKTH.  269 

kind,  in  interpreting  to  the  world  the  beautiful  mag- 
nificence of  nature,  and  in  throwing  a  veil  of  grace- 
ful delicacy  over  the  common  concerns  of  daily  life, 
an<l  in  elevating  and  purifying  the  thoughts  by 
hiirh  and  holy  aspirations,  and  in  enlisting  the  sym- 
pathies and  affections  of  mankind  in  whatever  is 
LTO"'l  and  great,  noble  and  lovely — especially  when 
it  is  found  in  the  life  of  the  lowly-minded,  the  meek, 
the  simple,  and  the  poor. 

He  labored  year  after  year,  and  he  did  not  labor 
in  vain.  He  scaled  the  hill  of  fame,  and  won  his 
way  to  glory.  The  author  of  the  "Lyrical  Bal- 
la«U"  and  of  the  "Excursion,"  the  late  Poet  Lau- 
reate of  England — for  of  him  we  now  speak — re- 
1  in  his  old  age  from  the  royal  hand  the 
noblest  meed  of  praise  that  could  be  conferred  by 
it  on  poetic  genius ;  he  was  greeted  by  academic 
np]»lau>e;  the  lame  which  h«  had  earned  in  Eng- 
land was  echoed  across  the  Atlantic,  with  a  voice 
of  cordial  assent,  from  every  part  of  America ;  and 
at  lengtlu,  after  his  death,  his  memory  was  honored 
by  a  monument  erected  by  public  contributions,  in 
this  sacred  Minster,  in  this  mausoleum  of  national 
genius,  amid  the  tropliies  of  national  glory. 

And  what  now  is  onr  moral?  what  is  our  reli- 
gious inference  from  these  facts  ?  How  were  they 
brought  to  pass  ?  Where,  let  us  ask,  under  God, 
was  a  mainspring  of  the  comfort  which  rli< 
him  in  days  of  diiliculty  and  of  chilling  neglect? 
Whence  was  the  genial  light  which  gleamed  over 
bis  path  ? 


270  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

It  was — as  he  himself  has  declared  in  his  pub- 
lished writings — it  was  in  his  marriage  union.  It 
was  in  his  conjugal  partnership  with  a  holy  and 
virtuous  woman,  whose  price  is  above  rubies.  It 
was  in  his  wedded  life,  in  holy  fellowship  with  one 
who  was  richly  endued  with  "the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  (as  the  Apostle  testi- 
fies) is  in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price."  (1  Pet. 
iii.  3.)  This  it  was  which  gave  consolation  and 
joy  to  his  hours  of  care  and  sadness,  and  minis- 
tered strength  and  courage  for  his  noble  intellec- 
tual work.  This  it  was  which  conduced  to  im- 
part a  holy  fragrance  and  a  healthful  tone  to  his 
writings,  and  made  them  more  instrumental  in  the 
diffusion  of  public  and  permanent  good  in  this  and 
other  lands 

Blessed  consummation!  leaving  a  beautiful  ex- 
ample of  the  salutary  influence  exercised  by  wo- 
man's love,  by  woman's  faith,  by  woman's  quiet- 
ness, meekness,  gentleness,  holiness,  over  men  of 
vigorous  minds,  endued  with  great  intellectual 
gifts,  and  stirred  by  strong  emotions,  such  as  are 
generally  found  in  those  who  are  endued  with 
poetic  genius,  and  are  fired  with  fervid  imagina- 
tions. The  influence  of  holy  womanhood  on  such 
minds  as  these  is  like  that  of  a  spiritual  gravitation. 
It  is  like  that  elemental  influence  of  attraction, 
never  seen,  but  always  felt,  which  acts  upon  the 
heavenly  bodies  themselves,  and  controls  those 
planetary  luminaries,  traveling  in  their  rapid  course, 
and  keeps  them  in  their  proper  spheres,  and  makes 


MBS.    WORDSWORTH,  271 

them  ministers  of  light,  of  health,  and  joy  to  the 
world. 

1  Ivre  let  woman  see  her  privileges,  here  let  her 
recognize  her  powers.  Her  might  is  in  meekness. 
"  In  quietness  shall  be  your  strength."  (Isa.  xxx. 
15.)  It  resides  in  the  hidden  springs  of  the  heart, 
in  holy  instincts,  and  delicate  reserve,  and  modest 
reverence,  and  tender  sensibilities, 


2T2  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  HEROINE. 

HARRIET  NEWELL. 

THE  first  American  heroine  of  the  missionary  enter- 
prise, was  born  at  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  Octo- 
ber 10th,  1793.  Pier  maiden  name  was  Atwood. 
In  1806,  while  at  school  at  Bradford,  she  became 
deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  religion ; 
and,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  she  joined  the  church. 
On  the  9th  of  February,  1812,  Harriet  Atwood 
married  the  Rev.  Samuel  Newell,  missionary  to 
the  Burman  empire ;  and  in  the  same  month,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Newell  embarked  with  their  friends,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Judson,  for  India.  On  the  arrival  of  the 
missionaries  at  Calcutta,  they  were  ordered  to 
leave  by  the  East  India  company ;  and  accordingly 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newell  embarked  for  the  Isle  of 
France.  Three  weeks  before  reaching  the  island 
she  became  the  mother  of  a  child,  which  died  in 
five  days.  On  the  30th  of  November,  seven  weeks 
and  foar  days  after  her  confinement,  Mrs.  Harriet 
Newell,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  expired,  far  from  her 
home  and  friends.  She  was  one  of  the  first  females 
who  ever  went  from  this  country  as  a  missionary ; 


HARRIKT   XI-.W1  I.I.  273 

and  she  was  the  first  who  died  a  martyr  to  the 
•  of  missions.  That  there  is  a  time,  even  in 
the  season  of  youth  and  the  flush  of  hope,  when  it 
is  "  better  to  die  than  to  live,"  even  to  attain  our 
\vi-h  for  this  world,  Harriet  Newell  is  an  example. 
Ilt-r  m«»t  earnest  wish  was  to  do  good  for  the 
W  of  Christ,  and  be  of  service  in  teaching  his 
gospel  to  the  heathen.  Her  early  death  has,  ap- 
parently, done  this,  better  and  more  efteetually, 
than  the  longest  life  and  most  arduous  labors  of 
any  one  of  the  noble  band  of  American  women 
who  have  gone  forth  on  this  errand  of  love  and 
hope.  In  the  language  of  a  recent  writer  on  this 
subject,  "Heroines  of  the  Missionary  Enterprise," 
Harriet  Newell  was  the  great  proto-martyr  of  Amer- 
ican mi-sions.  She  fell,  wounded  by  death,  in  the 
very  vestibule  of  the  sacred  cause.  Her  memory 
belongs,  not  to  the  body  of  men  who  sent  her 
forth,  not  to  the  denomination  to  whose  creed  she 
li.i-l  MiliM-ribed,  but  to  the  church,  to  the  cause  of 
missions.  With  the  torch  of  truth  in  her  hand,  she 
Ir'l  tin- way  down  into  a  valley  of  darkness,  through 
which  many  have  followed.  Her  work  was  short, 
her  toil  soon  ended ;  but  she  fell,  cheering  by  her 
dying  words  and  her  high  example,  the  missiona- 
ries of  all  coming  time.  She  was  the  first,  but  not 
the  only  martyr.  Heathen  l:m<l>  are  dotted  over 
with  the  graves  of  fallen  Christians;  missionary 
women  sleep  on  almost  every  >hore,  and  the  bones 
of  some  are  whitening  in  the  fathomless  depths  of 
the  ocean. 

18 


274:  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

Never  will  the  influence  of  the  devoted  woman 
whose  life  and  death  are  here  portrayed,  be  es- 
timated properly,  until  the  light  of  an  eternal  day 
shall  shine  on  all  the  actions  of  men.  We  are  to 
measure  her  glory,  not  by  what  she  suffered,  for 
others  have  suffered  more  than  she  did.  But  we 
must  remember  that  she  went  out  when  the  mis- 
sionary enterprise  was  in  its  infancy — when  even 
the  best  of  men  looked  upon  it  with  suspicion.  The 
tide  of  opposition  she  dared  to  stem,  and  with  no 
example,  no  predecessor  from  American  shores, 
she  went  out  to  rend  the  veil  of  darkness  which 
gathered  over  all  the  nations  of  the  East. 

Things  have  changed  since  then.  Our  missiona- 
ries go  forth  with  the  approval  of  all  the  good ;  and 
the  odium  which  once  attended  such  a  life  is  swept 
away.  It  is  to  some  extent  a  popular  thing  to  be 
a  missionary,  although  the  work  is  still  one  of 
hardship  and  suffering.  It  is  this  fact  which 
gathers  such  a  splendor  around  the  name  of  Har- 
riet Newell,  and  invests  her  short  eventful  life  with 
such  a  charm.  She  went  when  no  foot  had  trodden 
out  the  path,  and  was  the  first  American  mission- 
ary ever  called  to  an  eternal  reward.  "While  she 
slumbers  in  her  grave,  her  name  is  mentioned  with 
affection  by  a  missionary  church.  And  thus  it 
should  be.  She  has  set  us  a  glorious  example ;  she 
has  set  an  example  to  the  church  in  every  land  and 
age,  and  her  name  will  be  mingled  with  the  loved 
ones  who  are  falling  year  by  year ;  and  if,  when 
the  glad  millennium  comes,  and  the  earth  is  con- 


HARRIET   NEWELL.  275 

verted  to  God,  some  crowns  brighter  tha&  others 
shall  be  seen  amid  the  throng  of  the  ransomed,  one 
of  those  crowns  will  be  found  upon  the  head  of 
Harriet  Newell." 

"History  is  busy  with  us,"  said  Marie  Antoi- 
nette; and  the  hope  that  her  heroic  endurance  of 
ignominy  and  suffering  would  be  recorded,  and  en- 
sure the  j)ity  and  admiration  of  a  future  ag^doubt- 
less  nerved  her  to  sustain  the  dignity  of  a  queen 
throughout  the  deep  tragedy  of  her  fate. 

The  noblest  heroism  of  a  woman  is  never  thus 
self-conscious.  The  greatest  souls,  those  who  elevate 
humanity  and  leave  a  track  of  light — "as  stars  go 
down" — when  passing  away  from  earth,  never  look 
back  for  the  brightness.  A  woman  with  such  a 
soul  is  absorbed  in  her  love  for  others,  and  in  her 
duty  toward  God.  She  does  what  she  can,  feeling 
constantly  how  small  is  the  mite  she  gives;  and  the 
worth  which  it  is  afterward  discovered  to  bear 
would,  probably,  astonish  the  giver  far  more  than 
it  does  the  world. 

Harriet  Newell  died  at  the  early -age  of  twenty, 
leaving  a  journal  and  a  few  letters,  the  record  of 
her  religious  feelings  and  the  events  of  her  short 
missionary  life.  These  fragments  have  been  pub- 
li>lu-il,  making  a  little  book.  Such  is  her  contribu- 
tion to  literature;  yet  this  small  work  has  been 
and  is  now  of  more  importance  to  the  intellectual 
progress  of  the  world  than  all  the  works  of  Madame 
de  Stacl.  The  writings  of  Harriet  Newell,  trans- 
lated into  several  tongues,  and  published  in  many 


276  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

editions,  have  reached  the  heart  of  society,  and 
assisted  to  build  up  the  throne  of  woman's  power, 
even  the  moral  influence  of  her  sex  over  men ;  and 
their  intellect  can  never  reach  its  highest  elevation 
but  through  the  medium  of  moral  cultivation. 


SAKAH    LANMAN   SMITH.  277 


THE    MISSIONARY'S    WIFE. 

SARAH  LANMAN   SMITH, 

WAS  born  in  Norwich,  Connecticut,  June  18, 
1802.  Her  lather  was  Jabez  Huntington,  Esq. 
Her  biographer,  Rev.  Edward  W.  Hooker,  says 
of  her  early  years,  after  describing  her  sufferings 
from  ill  health  during  childhood,  and  also  from  the 
severity  of  a  school-mistress,  which  circumstances, 
added  to  the  death  of  her  mother,  had  the  effect  to 
bring  out  great  decision  and  sometimes  wilfulness 
of  character  : 

"But  with  these  things  in  childhood,  showing 
that  she  was  a  subject  of  that  native  depravity  in 
which  all  the  human  race  are  'guilty  before  God,' 
she  exhibited,  as  she  was  advancing  in  the  years 
of  youth,  many  of  the  virtues  which  arc  useful  and 
lovely;  and  prohaHy  went  as  far  in  those  excel- 
lences of  natural  character  on  which  many  en- 
dravor  to  build  their  hope  of  salvation,  as  almost 
any  unconverted  persons  do ;  carrying  with  her, 
however,  the  clear  and  often  disturbing  conviction, 
that  the  best  virtues  which  she  practised  were  not 
holiness,  nor  any  evidence  of  fitness  for  heaven. 


2T8  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

"She  was  exceedingly  attached  to  her  friends. 
Her  father  was  almost  her  idol.  The  affection  for 
her  mother,  who  was  so  early  removed  by  death, 
she  transferred  with  exemplary  tenderness,  to  her 
step-mother;  and  it  is  believed  the  instances  are 
rare  in  which  the  parties  are  uniformly  happier  in 
each  other,  in  that  relation,  than  were  Mrs.  Hun- 
tington  and  this  daughter.  Her  warmth  and  ten- 
derness of  affection  as  a  sister  were  also  peculiar 
and  exemplary.  Her  childhood  and  youth  were 
marked  with  great  delicacy  of  mind  and  manners ; 
diligence,  promptitude,  and  efficiency  in  her  under- 
takings ;  love  of  system  and  fondness  for  study, 
improvement,  and  the  acquirement  of  useful  knowl- 
edge, joined  with  a  great  desire  to  answer  the 
wishes  and  expectations  of  her  friends.  Dutiful- 
ness  and  respect  for  her  parents  and  grandparents ; 
reverence  for  her  superiors  generally ;  readiness  to 
receive  advice  or  admonition ;  a  just  appreciation 
of  the  good  influence  of  others,  and  a  spirit  of  cau- 
tiousness respecting  whatever  might  be  injurious 
to  her  own  character,  were  also  prominent  traits  in 
her  habits.  Disinterestedness  and  self-denial  for 
the  benefit  of  others  were  conspicuous.  Long  be- 
fore she  became  a  subject  of  divine  grace,  she 
took  an  interest  in  various  objects  of  benevolence, 
particularly  Sabbath-schools;  and  exhibited  that 
spirit  of  enterprise,  patience,  and  perseverance,  in 
aiding  the  efforts  of  others,  which  constituted  so 
prominent  an  excellence  in  her  character  in  the 
later  years  of  her  life.  Self-government ;  economy 


SARAH   LANMAX   SMITH.  270 

in  the  use  of  her  time  and  pocket-money ;  tastcful- 
ness  in  dress,  without  extravagance ;  and  a  careful 
and  conscientious  consideration  of  her  father's  re- 
sources, also  were  observable  in  her  early  habits. 
The.-i'  trait-*  are  not  mentioned  because  they  are 
not  found  in  many  other  young  persons,  but  be- 
cause  they  appeared  in  her  in  an  uncommon  de- 
gree." 

The  virtues  and  graces  of  character  enumerated 
do  not,  it  is  true,  constitute  the  holiness  of  a  Chris- 
tian— that  is,  the  especial  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
to  sanctity  the  heart ;  but  they  do  show  a  state  of 
feeling  naturally  inclined  to  the  moralities  of  life, 
to  which  sin,  acted  out,  would  have  been  at  u  en- 
mity .**  Iler  "  moral  sense  "  was  refined  and  en- 
lightened ;  she  only  needed  the  breath  of  divine 
grace  to  turn  her  heart  to  God  ;  all  her  ways  were 
in  harmony  with  his  laws;  while  converted  men 
have,  usually,  the  whole  inner  course  of  their  lives 
to  alter,  or  at  least  to  put  off  the  "old  max  with 
his  deeds  /"  which  is  the  struggle  of  a  carnal  nature 
women  do  not  often  have  to  undergo.  Mrs.  Smith 
is  a  tnse  and  lovely  illustration  of  the  noblest  type 
of  feminine  nature.  She  commenced1  her  office  as 
teacher  in  a  Sunday-school,  at  the  age  of  fourteen, 
before  she  was  a  convert  to  Jesus  ;  that  is,  before 
she  had  yielded  her  will  to  the  convictions  of  her 
reason  and  the  promptings  of  her  best  feelings,  and 
determined  to  live  the  life  of  duty,  and  seek  her 
own  happiness  in  doing  good  to  others.  This 


£80  WOMEN    OF    WORTH. 

change  took  place  when  she  was  about  eighteen 
years  old ;  from  that  time  all  was  harmony  in  her 
soul ;  she  had  found  the  true  light,  and  she  followed 
it  till  she  entered  heaven.  In  1833,  Miss  Hunting- 
ton  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Eli  Smith,  of  the 
American  mission  at  Beyroot,  Syria ;  and  she  went 
to  that  remote  region  as  the  "  help  meet "  for  a 
humble  missionary.  She  was  singularly  fitted  for 
this  important  station,  having  been  a  voluntary 
missionary  to  the  miserable  remnant  of  a  tribe  of 
the  Mohegan  Indians ;  she  had  thus  tested  her 
powers  and  strengthened  her  love  for  this  arduous 
work  in  the  cause  of  doing  good.  Her  letters  to 
her  father  and  friends,  while  reflecting  on  this  im- 
portant step  of  a  foreign  mission,  will  be  intensely 
interesting  to  those  who  regard  this  consecration 
of  woman  to  her  office  of  moral  teacher  as  among 
the  most  efficient  causes  of  the  success  of  the  Gos- 
pel. The  literary  merits  of  her  writings  are  of  a 
high  order;  we  venture  to  say,  that,  compared 
with  the  "  Journals  "  and  "  Letters  "  of  the  most 
eminent  men  in  the  missionary  station,  those  of 
Mrs.  Smith  will  not  be  found  inferior  in  merits  of 
any  kind.  Her  intellect  had  been  cultivated ;  she 
could,  therefore,  bring  her  reasoning  powers,  as 
well  as  her  moral  and  religious  sentiments,  to  bear 
on  any  subject  discussed ;  the  following  is  proof  in 
point.  The  powerful  competition  which  the  mis- 
sionary cause  held  in  Miss  Huntington's  affections, 
with  her  home  and  all  its  pleasant  circumstances, 


SARAH    I.A.VM  AN    SMITH.  281 

may  be  learned  from  two  or  three  sentences  in  one 
of  her  letters  written  a  few  months  before  she  left 
IHT  country.  "To  make  and  receive  visits,  ex- 
change friendly  salutations,  attend  to  one's  ward- 
robe, cultivate  a  garden,  read  good  and  entertain- 
ing books,  and  even  attend  religious  meetings  for 
one's  own  enjoyment ;  all  this  does  not  satisfy  me. 
I  want  to  be  where  every  arrangement  will  have 
unreserved  and  constant  reference  to  eternity.  On 
mi-.-ionary  ground  I  expect  to  find  new  and  un- 
looked  lor  trials  and  hindrances;  still  it  is  my 
choice  to  be  there.  And  so  far  from  looking  upon 
it  as  a  difficult  task  to  sacrifice  my  home  and  coun- 
try, I  feel  as  if  I  should  'flee  as  a  bird  to  her 
mountain.' " 

Such  are  the  helpers  Christian  men  may  sum- 
mon to  their  aid,  whenever  they  will  provide  for 
the  education  of  woman  and  give  her  the  office  of 
teacher,  for  which  God  designed  her. 

Mrs.  Smith  accompanied  her  husband  to  Bey- 
root,  and  was  indeed  his  "  help "  and  good  angel. 
She  studied  Arabic ;  established  a  school  for  girls  ; 
exerted  her  moral  and  Christian  influence  with 
i;rrat  effect  on  the  mixed  population  of  Moslems, 
Syrians,  Jews  ;  visiting  and  instructing  the  mothers 
as  well  as  the  children;  working  with  all  her  heart 
Mii-l  soul,  mind  and  might;  and  the  time  of  her 
M-rvice  soon  expired.  She  died  September  30th, 
1830,  aged  thirty-four;  a  little  over  three  years 
from  the  time  she  left  her  own  dear  land.  She 
died  at  Boojah,  near  Smyrna;  and  in  the  burial 


282  WOMEN    OF   WORTH. 

ground  of  the  latter  her  precious  dust  reposes,  be- 
neath a  monument  which  does  honor  to  America, 
by  showing  the  heroic  and  holy  character  of  her 
missionary  daughters. 


LADY    WARWICK.  283 


TILE  LABORER  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

LADY  WARWICK. 

TIIE  Right  Honorable  Mary,  Countess  of  Warwick, 
was  celebrated  alike  for  her  piety  and  accomplish- 
ments. She  was  born  in  November,  in  the  year 
1624,  and  died  April  12th,  1677,  aged  53.  Her 
life  extended  over  those  years  of  the  eventful  sev- 
enteenth century  which  saw  the  splendor,  the  fall, 
and  the  restoration  of  the  Stuart  dynasty. 

Lady  Warwick's  maiden  name  was  Mary  Boyle. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  that  Mr.  Richard  Boyle, 
born  1566,  who,  from  the  position  of  a  private  gen- 
tleman, rose  by  his  merits  to  be  the  first,  or  great 
Earl  of  Cork.  She  had  seven  brothers  and  seven 
sisters,  several  of  whom  became  illustrious;  espe- 
cially the  Honorable  Robert  Boyle,  who  attained 
BO  much  eminence  as  a  Christian  philosopher. 

Lady  Warwick  had  only  two  children,  a  daugh- 
ter, who  died  young,  and  that  promising  young 
nobleman,  Lord  Rich,  who  died  in  1664. 

Her  life  affords  us  a  conspicuous  proof  that  there 
existed  among  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  her  period 
some  persons  of  devoted  piety  who  do  not  make 


284  WOMEN  OF   WORTH, 

much  figure  in  our  historical  annals,  as  they  pur- 
posely kept  themselves  as  free  as  possible  from  the 
numerous  political  perturbations  of  the  times  in 
which  they  lived. 

Her  "Diary"  furnishes  a  vivid  and  graphic  pic- 
ture— not  only  of  her  ladyship's  character,  but  of 
the  actual  every-day  life  of  her  contemporaries; 
and  also  alludes  to  many  events  of  the  time  which 
have  been  too  little  noticed  by  other  writers.  It 
affords  us  a  peep  behind  the  curtain  at  the  secret 
history  of  the  leading  persons  of  the  age,  which  is 
alike  interesting  and  improving  to  reflective  read- 
ers. 

On  the  whole,  Lady  Warwick  stands  before  us 
as  an  eminently  devout  and  excellent  character. 
Her  life  and  writings  present  to  our  fellow-coun- 
trywomen— especially  those  in  the  higher  classes — 
a  noble  picture  of  the  true  piety,  dignity,  and 
grace  which  the  daughters,  wives,  and  mothers  of 
England  should  seek  to  cultivate  and  to  display. 

The  most  important  biographical  notice  of  her 
that  has  yet  appeared  is  in  a  work  of  her  friend 
and  pastor,  Dr.  Anthony  Walker.  It  bears  this 
singular  title :  "  The  Virtuous  Woman  Found,  her 
Loss  Bewailed,  and  Character  Exemplified,  in  a 
Sermon  preached  at  Felsted,  in  Essex,  April  30th, 
1678,  at  the  funeral  of  that  most  excellent  lady  the 
Right  Honorable  and  eminently  religious  and  char- 
itable Mary,  Countess  Dowager  of  Warwick,  the 
most  illustrious  pattern  of  sincere  piety  and  solid 
goodness  this  age  hath  produced:  with  BO  large 


LADY   WARWICK.  285 

additions,  as  may  be  styled,  The  Life  of  that  Noble 
Lady.  To  which  are  annexed,  some  of  her  Lady- 
ship's Pious  and  Useful  Meditations :  by  Anthony 
Walker,  D.D.,  and  rector  of  Fyfield,  in  the  same 
county." 

The  first  edition  of  this  work  was  printed  for 
Nathaniel  Ranew,  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  A.  D. 
1678,  and  another  A.  D.  1687,  and  it  is  from  this 
graphic  memoir,  written  with  so  much  of  the  old- 
world  warmth,  fulness,  and  directness,  that  the 
following  picture  of  Lady  Warwick's  grave  but 
winning  character  is  taken. 

God  made  use  of  two  more  remote  means  of  her 
conversion — afflictions  and  retirement. 

Like  the  wise  man  in  the  Gospel,  Matt.  vii.  24, 
she  dug  deep  to  lay  her  foundation  on  a  rock. 
She  made  a  strict  scrutiny  into  the  state  of  her 
soul,  and  weighed  the  reasons  of  her  choice  on  the 
balance  of  the  sanctuary.  And,  with  the  other 
builder  of  the  Gospel,  sat  down  and  considered 
with  herself  what  it  might  cost  to  finish  her  spir- 
itual edifice,  and  whether  she  were  furnished  to 
defray  that  charge.  And  also  whether  the  grounds 
of  her  hope  were  firm,  and  such  as  would  not 
abuse  and  shame  her,  and  her  evidences  for  heaven 
such  as  would  bear  the  test  and  Scripture  would 
approve. 

An  account  of  this  self-examination  she  drew  up 
at  large,  with  her  own  hand,  judiciously,  soberly, 
modestly,  humbly. 

Having  thus  put  her  hand  to  the  plough,  she 


286  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

looked  not  back,  but  minded  religion  as  her  busi- 
ness indeed,  and  never  gave  suspicion  of  trifling  in 
so  serious  a  work. 

Therefore,  for  her  practice  of  it,  it  was  her  great 
design  to  walk  worthy  of  God  in  all  well  pleasing, 
to  adorn  her  professed  subjection  to  the  gospel  by 
a  conversation  becoming  it,  and  to  show  forth  his 
virtues  and  praises  who  had  called  her  to  his  mar- 
velous light. 

She  was  circumspectly  careful  to  abstain  from  all 
appearance  of  evil.  In  all  doubtful  cases,  it  was 
her  rule  to  take  the  surest  side.  Though,  there- 
fore, none  were  further  from  censuring  others,  or 
usurping  judgment  over  their  liberties,  yet  for  her- 
self she  would  never  allow  herself  the  addition  of 
artificial  handsomeness.  She  used  neither  paint 
nor  patch,  and  was  pleased  with  the  saying  of  one 
of  her  spiritual  friends,  upon  reading  the  book 
which  apologizes  for  it :  "  O  Lord,  I  thank  thee  that 
thou  gavest  me  not  wit  enough  to  write  such  a 
book,  unless  withal  thou  hadst  given  me  grace 
enough  not  to  write  it."  Neither  would  she  play 
at  any  games ;  because,  beside  many  other  incon- 
veniences, she  judged  them  great  wasters  of  pre- 
cious time,  of  which  she  was  always  very  thrifty. 
And  though  she  was  known  to  be  a  woman  of 
good  understanding,  yet  there  were  three  things 
that  were  too  hard  for  her,  and  she  would  confess 
she  could  not  comprehend  them : 

1.  How  those  who  professed  to  believe  an  eter- 
nal state,  and  its  dependence  upon  the  short  inch 


ULDY  WARWICK.  287 

of  time,  could  complain  of  time  lying  as  a  dead 
commodity  on  their  hand,  which  they  were  troubled 
how  to  drive  away. 

2.  How  Christians,  who  would  seem  devout  at 
church,  could  laugh  at  others  for  being  serious  out 
of  it,  and  burlesque  the  very  Bible,  and  turn  reli- 
gion into  ridicule. 

3.  How  knowing  men  could  take  care  of  souls, 
and  seldom  come  amongst  them,  and  never  look 
after  them. 

And  though,  in  the  fore-named  particulars,  she 
was  content  only  to  give  example  of  forbearance ; 
yet  from  the  playhouse,  since  the  stage  hath  taken 
so  great  liberty,  she  would  openly  dehort  her  friends 
with  the  greatest  earnestness. 

She  very  many  years  since  began  to  keep  a 
diary ;  and  consulted  two,  whom  she  used  to  call 
her  soul-friends — and  ever  esteemed  such  her  best 
friends — concerning  the  best  manner  of  performing 
it  This  "diary"  she  used  at  first  to  write  every 
evening ;  but  finding  that  inconvenient,  by  reason 
of  her  lord's  long  illness,  which  gave  her  many 
inevitable  diversions  and  interruptions  at  that 
season,  she  changed  the  time  into  the  quiet,  silent 
morning,  always  rising  early.  And  therein,  amongst 
other  things,  she  recorded  the  daily  frame  of  her 
own  heart  toward  God,  his  signal  providences  to 
herself  and  sometimes  toward  others,  his  gracious 
manifestations  to  her  soul,  returns  of  prayer,  temp- 
tations resisted  or  prevailing ;  or  whatever  might 
be  useful  for  caution  or  encouragement,  and  afford 


288  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

her  matter  of  thankfulness  or  humiliation.  By  this 
means  she  arrived  at  such  experience  that  she 
could  conclude  (at  least  make  strong  conjectures) 
of  the  events  of  things  she  spread  before  the  Lord 
in  prayer,  by  the  frame  of  her  own  heart  in  the 
performance  of  it,  as  I  could  instance  in  particulars 
if  it  were  convenient. 

She  used  to  call  prayer,  "  heart' s-ease ;"  as  she 
often  found  it ;  and  though  her  modesty  was  such, 
and  she  was  so  far  from  a  vain  affected  ostentation, 
of  her  gifts,  that  I  cannot  name  one  person  with 
whom  she  prayed,  yet  can  I  say  she  was  as  mighty 
and  fervent  in  prayer  as  constant  and  abundant  in 
it :  for  she  sometimes,  using  her  voice,  hath  been 
overheard ;  and  her  own  lord,  knowing  her  hours 
of  prayer,  once  conveyed  a  grave  minister  into  a 
secret  place  within  hearing ;  who,  if  I  should  name 
him,  I  suppose  would  not  be  denied  to  be  a  com- 
petent judge,  and  who  much  admired  her  humble 
fervency;  for  she,  praying,  prayed;  and  when  she 
used  not  an  audible  voice,  her  sighs  and  groans 
would  echo  from  her  closet  at  a  good  distance. 

But  if  she  exceeded  herself  in  any  thing  as  much 
as  she  excelled  others  in  most  things,  it  was  in 
meditation :  this  was  her  master-piece.  She  usually 
walked  two  hours  daily  in  the  morning  to  meditate 
alone ;  in  which  divine  art  she  was  an  accomplished 
mistress,  both  in  set  times  and  occasional.  In  the 
first,  choosing  some  select  subject,  which  she  would 
press  upon  her  heart  with  intensest  thoughts  till 
she  had  drawn  out  all  its  juice  and  nourishment; 


LADY   WARWICK.  289 

and  in  the  second,  like  a  spiritual  boe,  she  would 
suck  honey  from  all  occurrences,  whole  volumes  of 
which  she  hath  left  behind  her. 

After  this  consecrating  of  the  day  with  reading 
the  Scriptures,  prayer,  and  meditation,  a  short 
dressing-time,  and  ordering  her  domestic  affairs, 
or  reading  some  good  book,  she  spent  the  remain- 
der of  the  morning  till  chapel-prayers,  from  which 
she  was  never  absent,  and  at  which  she  was  ever 
reverent  and  a  devout  example  to  her  whole 
family. 

She  was  a  strict  observer  of  the  Lord's  day, 
which  is  truly  called  the  hedge  and  fence  of  reli- 
gion ;  and  though  some  please  themselves  to  call 
this  Judaizing,  to  excuse  the  liberties  they  indulge 
themselves,  I  am  sure  our  church  hath  enjoined  us 
all  to  cry  to  God  for  mercy  for  the  breach  of,  and 
for  the  grace  to  incline  our  hearts  to  keep  the 
fourth  commandment,  as  well  as  any  of  the  other 
nine.  And  it  is  not  hard  to  observe  that  the 
streams  of  religion  are  deep  or  shallow  according 
as  those  banks  are  kept  up  or  neglected. 

She  was  a  very  devout  communicant,  seldom 
omitting  to  prepare  her  soul  with  solemn  fasting 
to  renew  her  covenant  with  God.  And  hi  the  act 
of  receiving,  I  cannot  think  of  her  without  reflecting 
on  St.  Stephen,  when  he  saw  the  heavens  opened 
and  Jesus  standing  at  God's  right  hand,  and  his 
face  was  as  the  face  of  an  angel. 

She  was  a  very  serious  and  attentive  hearer  of 
the  word,  and  constantly  after  sermon  recollected 
19 


290  WOMEW   OF   WORTH. 

what  she  heard — sometimes  by  writing,  always  by 
thinking,  and  calling  it  to  mind — that  she  might 
make  it  her  own,  and  turn  it  into  practice;  not 
content  to  be  a  forgetful,  fruitless  hearer  only,  but 
a  doer,  that  she  might  be  blessed  in  her  deed. 

And  such  she  was  for  the  external  performances 
of  religion. 

And  though  this  was  beautiful  and  lovely,  yet 
her  chief  glory  was  wkhin,  in  the  hidden  man  of 
the  heart,  in  that  which  is  not  corruptible,  in  that 
dress  of  graces  which  adorned  her  soul.  This 
string  was  all  of  orient  pearls,  and  evenly  matched, 
not  one  ill-watered  or  of  unequal  size.  There  was 
not  one  dried  or  withered  limb,  one  member  want- 
ing or  defective  in  the  new  creature ;  she  was  com- 
plete in  Christ,  all  of  a  piece. 

She  avowedly  designed  io  represent  religion  as 
amiable  and  taking,  and  free  from  vulgar  prejudice, 
as  possibly  she  might;  not  so  as  might  affright  and 
scare  men  from  it,  but  that  it  might  allure  them, 
and  insinuate  itself  into  their  love  and  liking.  To 
this  end  she  was  affable,  familiar,  pleasant,  of  a  free 
and  agreeable  conversation,  unaffected,  not  sour, 
reserved,  morose,  nor  disposed  to  melancholy,  which 
presents  religion  most  disadvantageously.  She  was 
naturally  of  the  sweetest  temper  in  the  world ;  and 
grace,  inoculated  into  such  a  stock,  thrives  even 
luxuriantly.  Whereas,  some  crabbed,  peevish,  sul 
len  natures  starve  the  best  scion  they  are  grafted 
with.  And  she  made  grace  and  nature  both  sub- 
servient to  the  good  of  others. 


LADT  WARWICK.  291 

As  we  say  of  some  neat,  well-fashioned  persons, 
"  whatever  they  wear  becomes  them,  and  sits  well," 
I  must  do  her  this  right  to  testify  I  never  saw  re- 
ligion become  any  person  better.  And  it  was 
hard  not  to  approve  and  love  a  dress  so  decent  and 
adorning. 

She  kept  herself  free  and  disinterested  from  all 
parties  and  factions,  that  none  might  suspect  her 
of  a  design  of  making  proselytes  to  any  but  to 
God. 

She  was  neither  of  Paul,  nor  Apollos,  nor  Cephas, 
but  only  Christ.  Her  name  was  Christian,  and  her 
surname  Catholic.  She  had  a  large  and  unconfined 
soul,  not  hemmed  in  or  pounded  up  within  the 
circle  of  any  man's  name  or  drawing ;  a  latitudina- 
rian  in  the  true  commendable  sense ;  and  whoever 
feared  God  and  wrought  righteousness  was  accept- 
ed of  her. 

She  very  inoffensively,  regularly,  devoutly,  ob- 
served all  the  orders  of  the  Church  of  England,  in 
its  Liturgy  and  public  service,  which  she  failed  not 
to  attend  twice  a  day  with  exemplary  reverence ; 
yet  was  she  very  far  from  placing  religion  in  ritual 
observances.  And  I  may  not  deny  that  she  would 
sometimes  warm  her  heart  (though  never  with 
strange  fire)  at  private  altars  in  her  own  "chamber 
or  closet. 

She  would  perfume  the  company  with  good  dis- 
course, to  prevent  idle  or  worse  communication, 
not  abruptly,  upbraidingly,  or  importunely,  which 
is  very  nauseous  and  fulsome,  and  spoils  a  good 


292  WOMEN   OF   WOKTH. 

game  by  bad  playing.  But  she  was  like  a  spiritual 
stove;  you  should  feel  the  heat  and  not  see  the 
fire,  and  find  yourself  in  other  company  amongst 
the  same  persons,  and  rather  wonder  than  perceive 
how  you  came  there.  For  she  would  drop  a  wise 
sentence  or  moral  holy  apothegm  (with  which 
she  was  admirably  furnished,  of  her  own  making 
or  collection)  that  suited  with,  at  least  was  not  far 
remote  from  what  was  talked  of;  and  commending 
or  improving  that,  she  would  wind  about  the 
whole  discourse  without  offence,  yea,  with  plea- 
sure. 

She  kept  a  book  of  such  wise  pithy  sayings, 
much  valuing  words  which  contained  great  use 
and  worth  in  little  compass. 

I  shall  transcribe  a  few  of  many : 

"The  almost  Christian  is  the  unhappiest  man; 
having  religion  enough  to  make  the  world  hate 
him,  and  not  enough  to  make  God  love  him. 

"  God's  servants  should  be  as  bold  for  him  as  the 
devil's  are  for  him. 

"  What  will  make  thee  happy  at  any  time  will 
make  thee  happy  at  all  times. 

"  O  Lord,  what  I  give  thee  doth  not  please  thee, 
unless  I  give  thee  myself.  So  what  thou  givest 
me  shall  not  satisfy  me,  unless  thou  give  me  thy- 
self. 

"  O  Lord,  who  givest  grace  to  the  humble,  give 
me  grace  to  be  humble. 

"He  loves  God  too  little,  who  loves  anything 
with  him,  which  he  loves  not  for  him. 


LADY   WARWICK.  293 

"  The  true  measure  of  loving  God  is  to  love  him 
without  measure. 

"  So  speak  of  God  as  though  men  heard  thee ; 
so  speak  to  men  as  knowing  God  hears  thee. 

"  Seneca  said,  he  was  better  born  than  to  be  a 
slave  to  his  body. 

"  Luther  said,  Christ's  cross  is  no  letter ;  yet  it 
taught  him  more  than  all  the  alphabet. 

"  We  should  meditate  of  Christ's  cross  till  we 
be  fastened  as  close  to  him  as  he  was  to  his  cross. 
'  "  By  how  much  th«  more  Christ  made  himself 
vile  for  us,  by  so  much  the  more  precious  he  should 
be  to  us. 

"  We  need  every  day  blood  for  our  hearts,  as 
water  for  our  hands. 

"  He  only  can  satisfy  us  who  satisfied  for  us. 

"He  that  takes  up  Christ's  cross  handsomely 
shall  find  it  such  a  burden  as  wings  to  a  bird,  or 
sails  to  a  ship. 

44  It  is  a  great  honor  to  be  almoner  to  the  King 
of  heaven. 

"  Who  would  not  starve  a  lust  to  feed  a  saint  ? 

u  To  give  is  the  greatest  sensible  delight ;  how 
indulgent,  then,  is  God  to  annex  future  rewards  to 
what  is  so  much  its  own  recompense ! 

**  To  be  libeled  for  Christ  is  the  best  panegyric. 

"Where  affliction  is  heavy  sin  is  light. 

"God  chastises  whom  he  loves,  but  he  loves  not 
to  chastise. 

"  Sin  brought  death  into  the  world,  and  nothing 
but  death  will  carry  sin  out  of  the  world. 


294:  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

"  If  all  men's  troubles  were  brought  into  a  com- 
mon store,  every  one  would  carry  back  what  he 
brought  rather  than  stand  to  a  share  of  an  equal 
division. 

"  Though  time  be  not  lasting,  what  depends  on 
it  is  everlasting. 

"  The  best  shield  against  slanderers  is  to  live  so 
that  none  may  believe  them. 

"He  that  revenges  an  injury  acts  the  part  of  an 
executioner.  He  that  pardons  it  acts  the  part  of 
a  prince. 

"  Sanctified  afflictions  are  spiritual  promotions. 

"  Man  is  a  pile  of  dust  and  puff  of  wind. 

"  Why  are  we  so  fond  of  that  life  which  begins 
with  a  cry  and  ends  with  a  groan  ?" 

But  I  will  not  cloy  you ;  knowing  it  is  safest  to 
rise  with  an  appetite,  even  when  we  are  entertained 
at  a  banquet. 

It  would  require  a  volume  to  follow  the  biogra- 
pher with  his  review  of  Lady  Warwick,  as  a  wife, 
as  a  friend,  as  a  mother,  a  landlady,  and  the  mistress 
of  a  great  household — always  affectionate,  dignified, 
and  charitable.  The  poor,  the  young  children,  and 
young  scholars  of  promise  were  the  objects  of  her 
special  and  unfailing  care. 

But  methinks  I  hear  it  asked,  says  the  worthy 
chaplain,  "What !  had  she  no  spots,  no  scars,  no 
real  nor  imputed  blemishes  ?  how  could  she  live  in 
such  an  age  and  not  be  corrupted,  or  at  least  tra- 
duced ;  neither  scorched  by  the  fire  of  infection, 
nor  blackened  by  the  smoke  of  revengeful  detrac- 


LADY   WARWICK.  295 

tion,.  for  upbraiding  the  guilty  by  her  innocence  ? 
Tliis  overdoing  is  undoing,  if  you  make  us  believe 
she  had  no  faults ;  we  shall  sooner  believe  you  have 
no  truth  ;  and  all  that  you  have  said  hath  more  of 
romance  and  what  you  fancy  than  narrative  of 
what  she-  was  or  did." 

I  confess  it  is  next  to  a  miracle  to  consider  both 
how  divine  grace  enlarged  her  heart  and  estab- 
li-lH-cl  her  goings,  and  restrained  the  tongues  of 
others  from  reproach  or  showing  dislike  of  that  in 
her  for  which  they  deride  and  hate,  not  to  say  per- 
secute others. 

But  since  you  are  so  inquisitive,  and  seem  to 
deny  me  the  just  and  civil  freedom  to  draw  a  veil 
of  silence  over  her  imperfections,  and  your  curiosity 
will  be  peeping  under  that  sacred  pall  which  should 
secure  and  shroud  the  worst  of  men  from  being 
pried  into  ;  and  the  vault  and  grave,  that  place  of 
darkness  and  forgetfulncss,  which  should  bury  all 
defects  and  render  them  invisible,  must  be  ran- 
sacked: draw  back  the  curtains,  let  in  the  light, 
survey  its  secret  recesses;  nor  she,  nor  I  in  her 
behalf,  fear  the  most  piercing  eagle-eye  or  scent. 
Not  that  I  deny  Ircr  to  have  been  a  sinner  while  I 
adore  that  grace  that  made  her  a  saint. 

But  these  two  things  I  say  and  will  adhere  to. 

First,  that  she  was  not  notoriously  defective  in 
any  grace  or  virtue. 

Secondly,  she  was  never  stained  with  any  scan- 
dalous deformity :  another  rare  mercy ;  for  though 
she  did  slip  now  and  then,  or  stumble,  if  you  will, 


296  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

she  fell  not,  much  less  lay  or  wallowed  to  defile  her 
garments ;  which  I  testify  not  only  from  mine  own 
observation  but  her  own  pen.  She  says,  "After 
God  had  thus  savingly  (I  hope)  wrought  upon  me, 
I  went  on  constantly,  comfortably,  in  my  Christian 
course,  though  I  had  many  doubts  and  fears  to 
contend  with ;  and  did  truly  obey  that  precept  of 
working  out  my  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling ; 
yet  God  was  pleased  to  carry  me  still  onward; 
and  though  I  too  often  broke  my  good  resolutions, 
I  never  renounced  them ;  and  though  I  too  often 
tripped  in  my  journey  to  heaven,  yet  I  never  for- 
sook my  purpose  of  going  thither." 

I  never  heard  her  blamed  for  more  than  two 
faults  by  the  most  curious  observers  and  inspectors 
of  her  disposition  or  behavior. 

1.  Excess  of  charity. 

2.  Defect  of  anger,  or  what  was  reducible  to 
those  two.    Two  goodly  faults !    But  even  these 
admit  apology  more  easily  than  they  need  it. 

1.  What  was  reputed  the  culpable  excess  of  hex 
charity  was  her  credulous  easiness  to  beh'eve  most 
people  good,  or  at  least  better  than  they  were.  I 
confess  she  did  bend  a  little  to  this  right-hand 
error;  but  if  it  were  a  bad  effect,  it  proceeded 
from  a  good  cause.  For,  as  it  is  observed,  that  as 
they  who  are  conscious  to  themselves  of  some  great 
evils,  scarce  can  esteem  any  less  nocent*  than 
themselves ;  so  they  that  have  clear  and  innocent 

*  Noxious,  injurious. 


LADY   WARWICK.  297 

hearts  are  ready  to  judge  the  like  of  others. 
"Charity  thinketh  no  evil,"  and  she  used  this 
good  opinion  of  others  as  an  instrument  to  make 
them  what  she  was  so  willing  to  signify  she  thought 
them.  But  though  she  would  never  despair  of 
any  men  while  she  found  them  under  the  awe  of 
God's  authority  and  word — (for  even  those  may 
receive  some  nourishment  who  eat  against  stomach, 
and  the  sieve  under  the  pump  may  be  cleansed, 
though  it  hold  no  water) — yet  if  she  observed  a 
person  to  scorn  or  deride  the  Scriptures,  despise 
God's  ordinances,  and  turn  all  that  was  sacred  into 
ridicule,  she  used,  as  her  phrase  was,  to  set  her 
mark  upon  that  man.  And  I  must  further  add,  she 
was  neither  so  often  or  so  much  mistaken  hi  her 
judgment  of  persons  as  some  supposed  she  was ; 
they  more  misinterpreting  her  civility  than  she  did 
the  other's  sanctity. 

2.  For  her  defect  of  anger. — This  implies  (if  it 
be  faulty)  want  of  zeal  against  sin  and  sinners; 
and  so  it  is  an  unjust  charge ;  for  though  I  confess 
she  could  not  rage  and  storm,  and  discover  her 
anger,  as  some  persons  do  who  verify  the  saying, 
"Anger  is  a  kind  of  madness," — for  her  sedate, 
composed,  serene  mind,  and  sweet  and  amicable 
disposition  were  scarcely  forcible  to  what  was  so 
contrary  to  her  nature ;  yet  would  she  make  deeper 
impressions  of  her  displeasure  for  great  faults,  than 
those  who  appeared  most  curious ;  like  a  still  soak- 
ing shower,  which  will  wet  more  than  a  driving 
storm.  And  therefore  it  was  observed,  that  if  any 


298  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

servants  had  been  faulty,  they  had  rather  have 
passed  the  gauntlet  thrice  of  their  lord's  most 
furious  expressions  than  have  once  been  sent  for 
to  their  lady's  closet,  whose  treatment  was  soft 
words,  but  hard  arguments  against  their  faults; 
and  like  that  silent  lightning,  which,  without  the 
noise  of  thunder,  melts  the  blade  and  singeth  not 
the  scabbard.  Her  reproofs  were  neither  the  fright- 
ful hissing,  nor  the  venomed  sting,  but  the  pene- 
trating oil  of  scorpions. 

This  little  is  enough  to  extenuate  her  almost 
commendable  faults ;  and  it  is  a  great  evidence  of 
her  goodness  that  these  things  were  imputed  as 
blemishes;  for  they  who  would  not  spare  her  in 
these  little  errors  showed  plainly  that  she  was  not 
chargeable  with  more  or  greater. 

Never  did  bird  take  wing  when  disentangled 
from  a  net  with  greater  cheerfulness,  nor  chirp  out 
the  pleasures  of  its  unconfined  freedom  more  mer- 
rily, than  she  did  solace  herself,  when  she  had 
escaped  the  noise  and  crowd  of  affairs,  which  ruffled 
and  turmoiled  her  quiet,  and  suspended  the  enjoy- 
ment of  herself.  And  when  her  dearest  sister  was, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  last  winter,  about  to  leave 
her,  her  last  farewell  she  took  was  in  these  words : 
"Now  I  have  done  my  drudgery  (meaning  her 
business),  I  will  set  to  the  renewing  of  my  prepa- 
rations for  eternity ;  and  she  made  it  the  repeated 
business  of  the  last  winter. 

She  on  the  Tuesday  in  Passion-week  (March 
26th,  1678)  was  taken  with  some  indisposition,  loss 


LADY    WABWICK.  299 

of  appetite,  and  an  aguish  distemper,  and  had  four 
or  five  fits,  which  yet  in  that  season  were  judged 
both  by  physicians  and  her  friends  more  advan- 
tageous to  her  health  than  dangerous  to  her  life. 
And  in  this  state  she  continued  freed  from  her  fits, 
in  her  own  apprehension  and  in  our  hopes,  till 
Friday,  the  12th  of  April,  on  which  day  she  rose 
with  good  strength,  and  after  sitting  up  some  time, 
being  laid  upon  her  bed,  discoursing  cheerfully  and 
piously,  one  of  the  last  sentences  she  spake  was  this, 
turning  back  the  curtain  with  her  hand : 

"  Well,  ladies,  if  I  were  one  hour  in  heaven,  I 
would  not  be  again  with  you,  as  well  as  I  love 
you." 

Thus  lived,  thus  died,  this  right  honorable  lady, 
this  heroic  woman,  this  blessed  saint,  this  incom- 
parable pattern  of  flaming  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God 
and  burning  charity  for  the  good  of  men,  in  the 
actual  exercise  of  prayer,  according  to  her  own 
desire.  For  there  are  many  witnesses  who  have 
testified  that  they  have  often  heard  her  say,  that  if 
she  might  choose  the  manner  and  circumstances  of 
bx;r  death,  she  would  die  praying,  by  which  desire 
she  so  often  anticipated  heaven. 


300  WOMEN   OF  WOKTEL 


THE  GUAKDIAN  ANGEL. 

LADY  MACKINTOSH. 

[This  noble  tribute  to  a  devoted  wife  is  given  in  the  "  Memoirs"  of  Sir 
James  Mackintosh,  the  "philosophical  politician11  and  the  hmnr.ne  and 
upright  judge— one  of  the  most  able  and  estimable  men  ever  Intrusted 
with  the  administration  of  justice.] 

ALLOW  me,  in  justice  to  her  memory,  to  tell  you 
what  she  was,  and  what  I  owed  her.  I  was  guided 
in  my  choice  only  by  the  blind  affection  of  my 
youth.  I  found  an  intelligent  companion  and  a 
tender  friend,  a  prudent  monitress,  the  most  faithful 
of  wives,  and  a  mother  as  tender  as  children  ever 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose.  I  met  a  woman  who, 
by  the  tender  management  of  my  weaknesses, 
gradually  corrected  the  most  pernicious  of  them. 
She  became  prudent  from  affection ;  and  though  of 
the  most  generous  nature,  she  was  taught  economy 
and  frugality  by  her  love  for  me.  During  the  most 
critical  period  of  my  life,  she  preserved  order  in 
my  affairs,  from  the  care  of  which  she  relieved  me. 
She  gently  reclaimed  me  from  dissipation ;  she 
propped  my  weak  and  irresolute  nature;  she  urged 
my  indolence  to  all  the  exertions  that  have  been 


LADY  MACKINTOSH.  301 

useful  or  creditable  to  me ;  and  she  was  perpetually 
at  hand  to  admonish  my  heedlessness  and  improvi- 
dence. To  her  I  owe  whatever  I  am ;  to  her  what- 
ever I  shall  be.  In  her  solicitude  for  my  interest, 
she  never  for  a  moment  forgot  my  feelings  or  my 
character.  Even  in  her  occasional  resentment,  for 
which  I  but  too  often  gave  her  cause  (would  to 
God  I  could  recall  those  moments!)  she  had  no 
snllenness  or  acrimony.  Her  feelings  were  warm 
and  impetuous,  but  she  was  placable,  tender,  and 
constant.  Such  was  she  whom  I  have  lost ;  and  I 
have  lost  her  when  her  excellent  natural  sense  was 
rapidly  improving,  after  eight  years  of  struggle  and 
distress  had  bound  us  fast  together,  and  moulded 
our  tempers  to  each  other — when  a  knowledge  of 
her  worth  had  refined  my  youthful  love  into  friend- 
ship, before  age  had  deprived  it  of  much  of  its 
original  ardor — I  lost  her,  alas !  (the  choice  of  my 
youth  and  the  partner  of  my  misfortunes)  at  a  mo- 
ment when  I  had  the  prospect  of  her  sharing  my 
better  days. 

The  philosophy  which  I  have  learned  only  teaches 
me  that  virtue  and  friendship  are  the  greatest  of 
human  blessings,  and  that  their  loss  is  irreparable. 
It  aggravates  my  calamity,  instead  of  consoling  me 
under  it.  My  wounded  heart  seeks  another  con- 
solation. Governed  by  these  feelings,  which  have 
in  every  age  and  region  of  the  world  actuated  the 
human  mind,  I  seek  relief,  and  find  it,  in  the  sooth- 
ing hope  and  consolatory  opinion  that  a  Benevolent 
Wisdom  inflicts  the  chastisement  as  well  as  bestows 


302  WOMEN   OF   WORTH. 

the  enjoyments  of  human  life ;  that  Superintending 
Goodness  will  one  day  enlighten  the  darkness  which 
surrounds  our  nature  and  hangs  over  our  prospects ; 
that  this  dreary  and  wretched  life  is  not  the  whole 
of  man ;  that  an  annual  so  sagacious  and  provident, 
and  capable  of  such  proficiency  in  science  and  vir- 
tue, is  not  like  the  beasts  that  perish ;  that  there  is 
a  dwelling-place  prepared  for  the  spirits  of  the  just, 
and  that  the  ways  of  God  will  yet  be  vindicated  to 
man.  The  sentiments  of  religion  which  were  im- 
planted in  my  mind  in  my  early  youth,  and  which 
were  revived  by  the  awful  scenes  which  I  have 
seen  passing  before  my  eyes  in  the  world,  are,  I 
trust,  deeply  rooted  in  my  heart  by  this  great  ca- 
lamity. 


THE   END. 


24598 


uc  somcm  REGIONAL  UBRARY  FAOUTY 


000  957  751     1 


N 


; 


